


An Unexpected Encounter.

by elveriamoir



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 59
Words: 168,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elveriamoir/pseuds/elveriamoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin is a warrior dwarf with a heart of gold, but a scary exterior. Bilbo is a well to do hobbit with a protective streak, but unthreatening looks. Their paths cross thanks to the meddling of one wizard.</p><p>Now has a beta. My thanks to Musume_no_Suoh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first dwarf in the Shire and a dreaming Bilbo.

Prologue.

 

Hobbits were a strange folk Dwalin decided, they skirted around him, making very little noise other than squeaking when he looked at them. Their fear hurt him slightly and he sighed, tightening the straps across his chest as he pushed to his feet from his short rest. He had wanted to sit for longer, but the fearful glances in his direction had put him on edge and he now just wanted to be away from them all. He carefully shouldered his pack, a feeling of loneliness and shame settling in his chest, before he plodded on in what he hoped was the right direction. He was a dwarf, so of course above ground his sense of direction wasn’t the best. A sign hung at the cross roads he’d reached, its delicately curved script pointing him down the right hand road for Hobbiton, and with a sense of foreboding he turned his feet in that direction. He passed a group of hobbits who seemed less fearful of him than the others, yet as he paused considering asking them for directions, a shout of laughter reached his ears and he turned away sharply, his eyes stinging. In doing so he failed to notice one of the males had pushed to his feet and was staring after him with an awe-filled expression. 

Dwalin stomped on, his booted feet sure on the pebbled path, his tattooed head lowered as he sunk into thoughts. His shoulders were hunched in, and his hands tucked into the edges of his cloak. He swallowed, closing his eyes against the wave of loneliness that swept over him when a burst of joyous laughter floated out of an open window. Without realising it he had come to a stop, resting against a dry stone wall and staring out across the gently rolling valley. He stood there as the day crept by, lost in thoughts of his past. Hobbits scurried passed him, giving him a wide berth, and whispering about him when they were a safe distance away. When he came back unto himself Dwalin was surprised to see the sun sinking beyond the horizon, its fiery colours tempered into a wash of pastels in the sky. He sighed and shook his head, scolding himself for being sentimental and turned to try and find his way again. To his disbelief he was standing in front of a well-made wooden gate. A wooden gate fixed with a metal sign baring the words ‘Bag End’ upon it. He allowed his eyes to trail up the worn, but sturdy stone steps to a round green door complete with a blue rune carved into it. He snorted, at least something had gone right that day.

 

***

  
  
Bilbo had been sitting enjoying the sun with a group of his friends, when a strange figure had caught his eye. His aborted start had caused his companions a great deal of laughter and he watched as the figure turned away. He had pushed to his feet unknowingly, causing the laughter around him to die as his eyes followed the impressive form. He frowned down at his friends, shaking his head at their immaturity.They should know better, even if they had laughed at him, he would bet the male had thought the group was laughing at him. He would also bet that any hobbits the male had encountered would not have been kind or even approachable, for a race that prided themselves on being polite, his folk could be the most ill-mannered peoples in Middle Earth. He sighed, leaving his friends without a good bye, and ignoring their demands that he tell them what they’d done wrong. Bilbo wandered back to his home, lightly stepping over the roofs of his neighbours as he couldn’t be bothered with polite conversation. 

He was intrigued as to why a dwarf would be in the Shire of all places, but reasoned that he would likely never find out, and resigned himself to a life of dullness. A life that had seemed fine until a wizard had offered him a chance of an adventure that he had turned down. Cursing himself Bilbo entered by his unlocked kitchen door and shrugged out of his jacket and waistcoat, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. He dumped the clothes on his bed and set about tidying his home. Standing in the living room holding a book he gave up, he doubted he would make an indent on the clutter he had gathered over the years and something in him wanted to bake. He nodded determinedly, he would bake then he would make himself some supper, go to bed and when he got up in the morning rinse and repeat. Muttering unflattering things about wizards under his breath, Bilbo stomped to his kitchen, loosing hours of the afternoon as he immersed himself in baking and cooking. When he stopped the air was cooler and the sun hung low on the horizon. He sighed and made himself a simple supper of salted fish and rosemary potatoes. Just as he was squeezing lemon over his supper a pounding knock echoed through Bag End.


	2. First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will put my disclaimer here. I do not own the hobbit, its characters or places. I merely decided to play with them one day.  
> Dwalin and Bilbo meet.

Chapter One - First Meetings.

 

Dwalin fidgeted as he stood by the glossy green door. He had already mentally slapped himself for noticing the bell after he had knocked and now he was left wondering if anyone was in. The carvings around the door caught his eye and he tilted his head to look more carefully at them, they were runes he realised, but like none he had ever seen. He was still studying them intently, distracting himself from the reaction he was likely to receive, when the door opened.

Bilbo stood at his front door in a pair of worn trousers and a thin white shirt, staring up at the mail, leather and fur clad dwarf in front of him. He was confused to say the least to have the dwarf on his door step. He tilted his head and took his time to study the larger male in front of him at close range. The tattoos seemed to cover all visible skin and Bilbo would bet that they were under the clothes as well. He couldn’t get a gage on the dwarf’s build, other than him being tall, as the multiple layers of clothes, armour and fur hid most of the figure. He eyed the massive hands worriedly, but even as he wondered what sort of life the dwarf had lived to feel the need to wear knuckle dusters in the Shire, he felt had to say the metal work on them was exquisit. In addition to the knuckle dusters and two larger weapons Bilbo had spotted earlier, his keen eyes picked out several blades concealed on the dwarf’s person. Seeing that his strange guest was still lost in trying to figure out the rune work around the door frame, Bilbo softly cleared his throat. He had to force himself not to flinch as hard grey eyes snapped to look at him and smiled softly at the intimidating dwarf. 

Dwalin was embarrassed at not hearing the door open and he knew he was glowering at the smaller creature in front of him and it was the height of bad manners but he couldn’t help it. He was impressed that the lad had not slammed the door in his face, he was even more impressed when he got a soft smile. 

“Please come in Master Dwarf.” Prompted Bilbo holding the door wider and stepping to one side. Dwalin stepped cautiously through into a warm hall way and looked around him suspiciously before throwing another glare at the hobbit, whose mouth seemed to twitch in amusement as he turned his back on Dwalin to close the door. Dwalin’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, no one responded to his glares in this manner. “That’s better Master Dwarf,” Dwalin stared down at the hobbit, “Saves all the heat escaping.”

Bilbo looked up at the dwarf in his hall and wondered just why he was there, manners drilled into him by his father demanded he get his guest settle first though.  “Now Master Dwarf, I know some people find the strong silent type interesting but I would prefer it if you would at least give me a name to call you by. I can’t go around calling you Master Dwarf now can I?”  As he spoke he was steering the large dwarf towards the kitchen, he was aware the dwarf was letting him, but he still had no answer. He closed his eyes for a second fighting the urge to run.

Dwalin walked silently next to his host, he had heard the hobbit’s question but he was still in shock at being treated fairly, he allowed the hobbit to guide him in to a spicy smelling kitchen and relaxed slightly before the soft voice at his side caught his attention. “Master Dwarf?” he turned to look down at Bilbo who sighed and cracked his neck as he let go of Dwalin’s arm, gesturing to the table, “Have a seat Master Dwarf, I promise I won’t try to poison you.”

Bilbo eyed the large dwarf and decided another show of trust was needed, “Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo Baggins at your service,” he said with a short bow, remembering what little he had read of dwarven etiquette. “Would you prefer tea or ale Master Dwarf?” he asked having just placed his own supper in front of the still silent dwarf.

Dwalin opened his mouth and closed it. He had no idea what to say to the rather peaceful looking lad in front of him. The fact a hobbit knew the traditional dwarven greeting had his head reeling, he knew it had been spoken in common tongue, but still. He looked carefully at the smaller male who had seemingly given up on trying to get an answer out of his guest and was pottering around the kitchen. He was shorter than most Dwalin knew, but not more than an inch or two below his older brother’s height. He had a head of honey blonde curls that glowed in the candle light, and fell over the shirt’s collar. Green-hazel eyes that reminded Dwalin of a rock he’d found as a dwarfling. Gently tanned skin that, as far as Dwalin could see, was unmarred by scars, calluses or body art. He winced at the delicately pointed ears, before concluding that they weren’t actually elf like being far too wide and obvious. Wide shoulders, long fingered hands, narrow hips, here Dwalin forced himself to continue as the hobbit bent to pull something out of a lower cupboard, and his eyes trailed down long legs.  The feet seemed powerful, he was fascinate by them, large with seemingly delicate soles and curly hair on the top. He glanced at the hobbit’s –Master Baggins’ he corrected himself- face, no sign of stubble or any facial hair beyond the eye brows. Dwalin felt his lips twitch and was glad of his beard, it wouldn’t do to have his host thinking he was laughing at him. His shoulder’s dropped at that thought, what the hobbit must think of him, he’d come uninvited (Dwalin had noticed there was only enough food for one), spoken nothing to him, glowered at him and he looked down at the plate, eaten his host’s dinner. He looked back at the hobbit to find himself under close scrutiny, and had to look away from his host’s eyes.  

Bilbo repressed rolling his eyes at the dwarf’s actions, really, he thought, it was hardly like he could hurt the bear of a dwarf, perhaps the dwarf thought he was actually going to poison him. Before he could say anything the dwarf had pushed to his feet and was walking around the table to him, Bilbo forced himself not to back up, meeting the grey eyes coolly and wiping the mug in his hand with a tea towel. To his surprise the dwarf bowed deeply, baring his neck. Fighting to keep his eyebrows in place Bilbo didn’t realise he had stopped drying the mug until large hands gentle took it from his own. He flushed slightly at the feel of leather against his fingers and the gentle pressure as Dwalin squeezed his hands. Mentally shaking himself he focused back on the dwarf who chose now to start talking. “My apologies Master Baggins, for my rudeness and for eating your dinner.” Bilbo cocked his head, trying to figure out how someone with that much facial hair could look guilty and sheepish at the same time, the dwarf seemed to attempt a smile at him.

Dwalin bit his lip at the look he was getting, before a corner of his mouth quirked up, and he stepped back slightly releasing the hobbit’s hands, bowing shortly again, “Dwalin, son of Fenwin at your service.” He looked down at the hobbit, taking in the relaxed posture of the smaller man. Dwalin was still confused about his easy acceptance and his mouth was talking again without his permission. “Master Baggins, how are you … I mean ... no one is… I’m more used to being spat at than … bullocks.” He scratched his head before jumping as a high, clear laugh bounced around the kitchen.

“I’m sorry Master Dwalin,” choked Bilbo, “I know I should laugh, but ….” He trailed off to get himself back under control. “My apologies Master Dwalin, I wasn’t laughing at the words you said, but at the fact I managed to fluster you,” he looked up at the dwarf in confusion, and dawning understanding. 

“Wait what!?” he snapped his voice no longer soothing, and drawing himself up to his full height, (taller than my brother Dwalin corrected himself). “Who spat at you?” demanded the hobbit, eyes flashing and darkening to almost fully brown, Dwalin took a step back at the hobbit’s anger. “If it was one of my neighbours…” Bilbo trailed off threateningly, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When the eyes opened again Dwalin was relieved to find they were back to green-hazel, as he had for some reason decided he liked that colour. Now he thought about it he still had that rock, it was in the handle of one of his axes. A sigh brought his attention back to the hobbit, “I would apologise for them Master Dwalin,” Bilbo muttered, “But I’d prefer to reassure you I am not like that.”

 Dwalin fought down the urge to smooth out the furrow that had appeared on his host’s forehead, where such a strange urge had come from he didn’t know and did not want to know, “Please Master Baggins,” he held out a hand palm up. “Your neighbours did nothing wrong. I shouldn’t have brought it up at all, not a polite thing to do.”

His eyes widened as Bilbo shook his head and ushered him to sit back down, a plate of turnovers and a mug of mead appearing from apparently nowhere, with nothing more than a muttered, “You don’t know my neighbours.”

Bilbo stood back and watched Dwalin tuck into the food, with a gentle smile. He slipped quietly from the room out of his back door, something about the dwarf telling him that he was a law man rather than a law breaker. 

 In his shirt sleeves Bilbo made short work of the distance to the Green Dragon. Unencumbered as he was by the material of his frock coat he took a short cut through the over grown forest. His arrival at the inn caused several patrons to jump in shock. His friends took one look at him and scrabbled for the exits, only for his glare to stop them. He looked around the suddenly silent bar area and drew himself up, his Took and Baggins’ heritage had him looking down at most hobbits if he did this, and this was one time he was determine to take advantage.

He looked around the room his eyes a dark green again and his own silence flowed from him carrying his own disgust and anger at his kin. They might not have spat at the dwarf currently in his kitchen but their actions were far from nice. He was sure the dwarf-Dwalin his mind corrected-was unaware of how open his face had been during the short discussion they’d just had. It had been very illuminating to find out just how much his people had hurt a guest to their lands. It would not stand. His eyes settled on the form of his worthless cousin Otto and he smirked. The bar stilled as he stalked towards his cousin, he knew that rumours would follow this but at the moment Bilbo let himself prowl. He met his cousin’s eyes and the smaller hobbit shifted trying to break eye contact, he’d never seen Bilbo this het up, even over Lobellia, somehow he knew this was bad. Bilbo broke eye contact and eyed the rest of the bar. When he eventually spoke, some of the more delicate hobbits were already shaking.

“I am disgusted,” he snarled his voice low and dangerous, and his friends eyes widened further in fear. Bilbo’s reputation may have changed, but they weren’t stupid enough to forget the one he’d had in his youth. “You are all failures,” he raised his head and sneered at them, “I am ashamed to call any of you hobbits.” He knew the words would cut deep simple as they were and that word would get out that Baggins of Bag End, grandson and heir of the Thraine was not impressed with the new action concerning outsiders. He smiled grimly and slipped out in the uproar that soon started.

 He returned to the kitchen, just as Dwalin was getting worried. He watched the dwarf look around the room, small smile as he listened to the larger male ramble about being offensive, and scaring folk and being an idiot. He repressed a sigh, he still need to find out why the dwarf was there so calling him on his ramblings wouldn’t be a good idea. He slipped around the occupied dwarf and made noise as if he was coming back down the hall. Watching in amusement and sadness as the dwarf took his seat and carefully schooled his features.


	3. Tea and Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanations are made over tea and cookies.

Chapter Two – Tea and Tales.

Bilbo stepped forward quietly, his mind working overtime as he tried to figure out just what he could do to help the dwarf currently seated in his kitchen. It wasn’t like they knew each other so it wasn’t Bilbo’s place to interfere, but the larger male had looked so lost when he was trying to thank Bilbo for basic hospitality that the hobbit’s heart had ached for him. “Master Dwalin?” he questioned, as the dwarf made no recognition of his presence. Bilbo really didn’t want to end up on the receiving end of one of those axes. 

Dwalin raised his head and looked around him when he heard his name called, he spotted the host and smiled behind his beard. “Master Baggins,” he began, wondering why the other winced, he tried soldiering on, deliberately ignore the voice in the back of his head that told him even this hobbit was scared of him. “I had begun to think you had ran away.” He pushed to his feet and gestured at the table, “Can I help you clean up at all? I doubt you were expecting guests this evening, despite the mark on your door.” He watched as the hobbit tilted his head slightly, deciding it was a cute look on the smaller man. 

Bilbo was taking in what he’d just been told, “It is Bilbo, Master Dwalin, I very much doubt I am older than you” he muttered not thinking about it. He looked up into concerned grey eyes. “Seriously it is just Bilbo.” He looked down at the few dishes on his kitchen table, “Leave them Master Dwalin,” he chuckled, “I’ll do them after I…we’ve….I’ve…whatever….I will do them after supper tonight.” He wandered over to the stove as he talked, filling one of the heavy kettles on its top. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to have a cup of tea with me? If you prefer I have beer. It’s just I would quite like to know what you meant by the mark on my door.” He hummed a short tune as he waited for his guest to reply, it wasn’t like he hadn’t become used to the silence quickly, and at least the dwarf was talking occasionally now. 

Dwalin watched him potter about with a slight frown, if it was true and the hobbit really wasn’t expecting guests…worse didn’t know anything about the mark on the door…then Dwalin had to find a way to tell him exactly what was going to happen. The frown deepened and he barely heard the question directed at him. The frown lightened when he realised he’d been allowed to call his host by his first name, that was sign of trust indeed. He looked up to find his host watching him with that enigmatic smile and he shook himself, “My apologies Mister Bilbo, I got lost in my own thoughts.”

“Ah Master Dwalin, dangerous habit that can be,” He smiled, “I supposed Mister Bilbo is better that Master Baggins, but really it’s just Bilbo.” He tilted his head again and watched the last of the frown fade, and the grey eyes crinkle slightly at the corner. “I was asking if you would take a cup of tea with me and explain what you meant by the mark on my door, I have beer if you would prefer.”

“Ah, tea would be fine Mist…erm…Bilbo. That will take some getting used to. I will endeavour to explain as well as I am able.” He bowed slightly, and felt his smile deepen in response to the brilliant one he received from his host.

“Thank you Master Dwalin, I think we should maybe take it in the sitting room though, it will be comfier.” He pointed through the open door of the kitchen, “Out there and second door on your right Master Dwalin, I will be along shortly with the tea tray, please make yourself comfortable.” He frowned as Dwalin tried to talk, and somehow it was effective in stopping the larger man in his tracks, “Master Dwalin you are a guest in my home, it would be very ill mannered of me to be asking you to help, shoo.”

Dwalin found he really couldn’t argue with that frown, and wandered out of the kitchen to find this sitting room. The second door on the right was ajar when he came to it and he cautiously stuck his head in to check for dangers, before mentally kicking himself. He doubted Mister Bilbo had an orc hidden under a chair. He gasped as he stepped into the room fully, it was dimly lit by a glowing fire, but the darkness wasn’t a problem for his eyes. There was a lot of wood, and once again it glowed under its waxy covering. Dwalin stepped heavily on the boards under his feet, and glowering at the mud on his boots cautiously skirted around what appeared to be a tapestry on the floor. Its pattern made no sense to the dwarf, but he had to admit the effect of the colours in it was soothing. He was drawn to a large map hanging on the wall and he carefully made his way over to it.

He was tracing a red marked route with his finger when Bilbo entered the room un-noticed. He smiled at the back of the dwarf, feeling an urge to smother the larger man in home comforts, he had found him examining simple things twice now and it was endearing. He gently placed the tea tray on one of the sturdy little tables and knelt in front of the fire, practiced fingers soon had the flames dancing merrily and he relaxed a little more as warmth filled the room. When he turned back to the dwarf he was surprised to see Dwalin watching him, the corners of his grey eyes crinkled again. Bilbo waved an elegant hand, “Take a seat Master Dwalin,” he checked the tea, “It should only be a few minutes to stew,” he noticed the dwarf hesitating by the rug, “Oh it’s fine Master Dwalin, please sit down.” He smiled gently feeling like it was like having tea with a startled deer, “Please, I will get a crick in my neck if you hover over me all night.” He pushed up and onto the settle as he talked. 

Dwalin frowned and nodded, before seating himself opposite. His eyes widened as he sank into the chair and he groaned at the fantastic feeling of comfort. “Sorry Master Baggins,” he croaked, blushing under the other’s gaze, his own eyes fastened to the toes of his boots.

“Nonsense,” snapped Bilbo, before softening his voice again trying to put the dwarf at ease, “It’s a comfy chair.” Dwalin was peering at his from under bushy brows and so Bilbo raised one of his own, “If you really are more comfortable calling me Master Baggins or Mister Bilbo I can live with it you know. Ah tea is ready.” He poured some into a large earthenware mug and handed it to the still embarrassed dwarf, “Help yourself to milk and sugar, Master Dwalin, there are cookies if you still feel hungry.” He sat back and waited for the dwarf to be more at ease.

Dwalin watched his host from beneath his eyebrows. He was beyond embarrassed by his reaction to a comfy seat, and had tried to apologise in case he’d discomforted the smaller man, but Bilbo had merely brushed it away with the calm that seemed to be an inbuilt part of his personality. Dwalin would normally have chaffed at being treated as a skittish animal, but he realised he had been acting like one and so let it go, it was just another point in Bilbo’s favour for not running away and trying to calm him down. He took the tea, carefully taking a sip before deciding on adding sugar, eyes still on his host he cautiously reached for a biscuit, expecting a wrap over the knuckles despite Bilbo’s words. When none was forthcoming he took a bit and moaned again at the soft, buttery sweetness melting on his tongue. He froze eyes flying to his host, before relaxing at the almost indistinguishable flash of humour he saw there, “Thank you Mist…no Bilbo.” He corrected himself, “I am honoured you let me call you by your given name so I will use it, I just might take a while to get there that is all.” He explained, and relaxed further into the cushions of the chair, grunting as he was prodded by the handle of his own axe. He shifted it and tried again, “Bilbo, thank you for your hospitality and I apologise for turning up unexpected and uninvited. If you would like I will explain what I can now?” He watched the hobbit carefully for any signs of anger.

Bilbo sighed softly, he really needed to hit something, who ever had caused Dwalin to be this skittish about accepting simple help was, Bilbo couldn’t think of a swearword strong enough. He closed his eyes as he took a sip of his warm tea, it was probably more than one occasion. It seemed that Bilbo’s reaction was an exception not the norm. He opened his eyes and peered at his guest over the edge of his mug, why he had become so defensive of a stranger in such a short space of time he didn’t know, but he had realised there was a look in the dwarf’s grey eyes that he had seen in his own hazel ones for too many years. He shifted on the settle, drawing his feet up underneath him and setting his mug down on the arm rest. “That would be nice Master Dwalin,” he winced at how soft his voice was and cleared his throat before trying again, “Tell me what you can.” Bilbo wasn’t stupid he hadn’t missed the inflection of the dwarf’s words. He sat back watching his guest carefully, he would be glad of any answer, but with how cautious the dwarf was Bilbo knew he would have to temper his own reaction.

Dwalin nodded and sat for a minute to organise his thoughts. “Bilbo,” ah he sounded croaky, he cleared his own throat and took a sip of his warm sweet tea, resisting the urge to eat another cookie. Manners, he reminded himself, use your manners. “I will start from the beginning if that is okay with you Bilbo, well as close to the beginning as I can.”

Bilbo nodded and the hazel eyes seemed to sharpen as they looked across at him, Dwalin swallowed. “I am originally from Erebor, the Lonely Mountain as it is now known,” he felt one of his eyebrows go up as Bilbo gasped. He hadn’t been expecting the hobbit to know of his home land, “Ah! I see I don’t have to explain what happened to the mountain. We wandered along time after that. People are not kind Bilbo, even the elves broke a promise to us. I can understand why they didn’t rush the dragon, having no desire to be charcoal myself, but they even denied our injured and young aid after that.”

Dwalin stopped and took a swallow of the sweet tea, trying to ground himself, he would not cry, hadn’t cried for years. “We wandered the wilderness for a long time. Those amongst us who could work tried to take on an honest living, but men are sneaky and often we were undercut, or blamed for things that were not our doing. It took several years but we did eventually reach the Blue Mountains,” at Bilbo’s confused look he elaborated. "Ered Luin,” he stated not really expecting the hobbit to know that name either, and was pleasantly surprised by the nod he received. “Right well, we settled there, it wasn’t home, but it provided shelter, a livelihood for some of us, protection for those too young to fight.

Dwalin sighed as he watched the hazel eyes in front of him, there had been no pity in them so far, just a strange sort of understanding. He didn’t want to tell the hobbit the next bit of the story, he just knew he was either going to be pitied or despised for dwarven greed. “Our king felt the need to get us better, safer living areas, so despite all the warnings of Durin’s Bane, we rallied to his call to march against the Orcs who had taken over Khazad-dum. We were mainly warriors, however too many of us were under age. I stood side-by-side with my kin ready to die for my king, to provide my nephews a proper home.” Dwalin winced and closed his eyes, desperately not looking at the hobbit as he tried to control himself. He nearly jumped through the ceiling when a gentle hand closed around his wrist and he opened his eyes to see Bilbo perched on the arm of his chair, looking steadily at him.

Dwalin closed his eyes trying not to lose control of his emotions, the hobbit’s face was a blank mask and the eyes dead.

Master Dwalin,” breathed Bilbo, his free hand reaching to squeeze the leather and fur clad shoulder reassuringly, “I know of the Battle of Azanulbizar, I know the horrors that befell your brethren there. You do not have to tell me these things.” He rubbed a soothing thumb over the small bit of skin visible between the bracers and mail sleeves. “You do not have to tell me these things,” he crooned as Dwalin leant heavily against him, shaking slightly. “Dwalin,” he whispered, continuing his soothing actions, “I do not judge you for going. I do not judge your people for wanting a safe home for their children. I do not pity you for your losses there, I understand your loss and pity will not help.” He tightened his grip and got a gasp in response, grey eyes finally meeting his. “I do not pity and I do not judge Master Dwalin.” He allowed the dwarf to sag against his side, rubbing gentle circles on his back, “If you cannot continue yet we can talk later.”

Dwalin knew he should push away from the smaller man, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the small comfort those gentle hands were bringing him. No one person who knew their story reacted in this way. No thought Dwalin he would accept the comfort while it was offered, but he would also keep his word to the hobbit, “No Bilbo,” he croaked, pleased that he didn’t sob, “I promised you an explanation and I will.”

He shifted leaning further into the warmth at his side, half expecting to be pushed off. “We are looking for a burglar to take back Erebor. That is what the sign on your door means, 'burglar looking for work.'" He stiffened waiting to be pushed away but the hands kept up their motion and he relaxed again, “Sorry that didn’t come out right, well it did but not exactly the best way I could have put it.”

He took a shuddering breath, feeling Bilbo shift, allowing him to settle more comfortably. “Right I will try that again. There have been rumours that the dragon hasn’t been seen for sixty years. Our crown prince wishes to take back the mountain for our people, as Ered Luin is slowly being bled dry. If we want to survive we need a home base that can out last us. When we started making plans a wizard appeared to us, Bilbo?” he felt the hobbit stiffen next to him, the hands stopping their motions.

Dwalin tried to push away, but the smaller male relaxed and the hands continued rubbing soothingly so he sat back again, continuing cautiously. “A wizard dressed in grey, a wizard named Gandalf,” Bilbo didn’t respond so Dwalin leant heavily against him, it wasn’t proper by his people but it felt nice, he closed his eyes and turned his head slightly into the smaller man as he continued. “There were twelve of us who had volunteered to travel with our crown prince. The prince himself making thirteen, the wizard promised to find us a burglar, capable of surviving if the dragon was not dead.”

The hand on his arm changed the patterns it was making and Dwalin sighed feeling yet more tension leave him. “We received a letter by raven but a week ago, telling us to head to Bag End in Hobbiton, in the Shire. He told the crown prince that he had found a willing burglar and we were to look for a round green door with the mark of a burglar looking for work. I needed to be shown it by our token scoundrel, nice lad, pain in the arse when one is captain of the guard.” Dwalin sighed sleepily, not realising how much he had given away. “Our crown prince has gone to see if out kin would be willing to help us, Dain from the Iron Hills, I was sent ahead to see if the burglar was all the wizard said he was. I think I will be the only one here tonight. Bilbo?” he questioned sleepily as he felt the hobbit's silent sigh. 

Bilbo huffed softly and stopped rubbing circles on the dwarf's back, “Come Master Dwalin, let’s get you to bed.” He stood, keeping one reassuring hand on the dwarf’s arm, “I would offer you a bath first but you are almost dead on your feet.”

He tugged the unresisting dwarf along the hall stopping by the best guest bed room. “In here Master Dwalin, a nice bed, I will lock the doors so no one can get in, you do not have to worry here.” He flashed a smile at the dwarf to hide the reactions he wanted to give to the information he’d been given. The smile became slightly more real at the sleepy, toothy grin he got in response. “Go to sleep Master Dwalin. Just take your weapons and boots off before you get into the sheets.” He pushed the larger man through the door, carefully shutting it after him.

Standing in the dark hall Bilbo closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, hearing the sound of weapons (far too many weapons) and a pair of boots hitting the floor. He was shaking badly now, his anger curling in his gut. On automatic he went around his smial locking up, his hand were trembling as he reached the kitchen door and he slipped out of it, pipe in hand.

There on the door step, uncaring of if the neighbours saw Bilbo flopped to the ground, taking a shuddering draw from the pipe. He didn’t even bother with his smoke rings, his mind was drawn back to when he was but a fauntling. A wee lad at the age of eighteen with a wicked smile and a deadly left hook, the winter had swirled in unheralded and unwelcome. The wolves had followed shortly. Then the orcs. He had stumbled across two wolves fighting over a corpse, the sight of the broken body its entrails staining the snow red had caused Bilbo to snap. Heedless of his own safety he had flung rock after rock at the creatures. When he had been sure they had gone he had scooped the body up and ran to the town hall, it hadn’t been until he was there that he had found out it was his mother’s body. He had caved to the illness traveling the Shire then, it took his father staggering through the door of the smial, covered in black blood and holding a sword to snap him from it. Weak and shaking Bilbo had dragged himself towards the too still form of his father. It had taken all of his strength to roll the male over and his screams had brought the neighbours running despite the danger and lateness of hour. The Gaffer had wrapped him in a huge hug, the hobbit’s sturdy frame taking the battering a weakened Bilbo had dished out. Gandalf had arrived the next day with the rangers, and the Shire was wolf and orc free. It had come too late for Bilbo and his family.

His head snapped up, as the light of dawn crept over the horizon, and his hazel eyes slowly flooded brown, the pupils blown wide. He would help the dwarves get their home back. He would help Dwalin, he would help those who had lost their kin at the Battle of Azanulbizar, he couldn’t help himself but he could help these dwarves who came to him for aid. He pushed to his feet and dropped his pipe, its delicate stem snapping on contact with the step. He raised his head, he would help them and he would show no mercy to any that tried to stop them.


	4. A Lull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin finds the bath and Bilbo cooks enough to feed a small army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise I had forgotten to post chapter two, A rather large mistake on my part. Now though you have some idea of what is going on. Sorry.

Chapter Three – A Lull. 

Bilbo, his mind made up, pottered about Bag End as he waited for Dwalin to awake. He knew, unless one knew him well, he would look the same and he intended to keep that appearance until he could scream loudly at the wizard. The meddling old fool might have meant well, Bilbo didn’t know, but he had sent thirteen strangers to his home without so much as a by-your-leave, so yes Bilbo was ready to scream at the old man. He automatically attempted to tidy the smial, he paused in the middle of putting his books away. He was actually doing quite well. The kitchen was spotless, the copper pans gleaming and odds and ends put tidily away, he would need the space in there to cook for fifteen bodies. The sitting room had been meticulously tidied, its windows were flung wide and its tables clear of parchment and books. Bilbo had paused in putting the books away as he realised he could simply shut the door to his study. Huffing at his own stupidity, he left the room the way it was deliberately shutting the door with a soft snick behind him. His guest bedrooms were always tidy and so he made short work of making the beds up, to his embarrassment he realised people would have to share, but from what he had gathered from Dwalin talking last night a soft bed would be enough to push that to one side. Besides it wasn’t like dwarven hospitality meshed completely with hobbits’. Perhaps some of them may prefer to share, he would give them that option and it would hopefully settle his problem for him. The bathing room was tidy and the only change he made was to fill the shelves with towels from his airing closet. 

The sun was high in the sky and there was still no sign of movement from his guest so Bilbo started to cook. His larder and pantry were full as were the many cupboards in the kitchen. He decided on a simple stew and some of the rosemary bread from yesterday for his guest as it was too late for breakfast. He took some of his frustrations out on making some new loaves, he felt a twinge of satisfaction as he took in the mounds of olive dough, rosemary dough and a several bowls of plain wholemeal dough proving on the window sill. He braised some rabbit in a smaller pan and added carrots and onions along with several springs of thyme and a bottle of Hamfast’s pale ale. He allowed it to simmer as he turned his attention onto making enough food for fifteen people, thirteen of whom would likely be ravenous. Standing in his pantry Bilbo grinned as he took in the shelves full of fresh ingredients, well at least he wouldn’t be embarrassed by running out of food. Several trips later he was hot and shrugged out of his over shirt, leaving him in his vest and trousers. He decided on starting the potato dishes first. He whistled to himself as he filled a deep casserole dish with lamb mince, garden peas and mint before topping with slices of potato and lashings of grated cheese. He placed it on the table ready to go in when the oven was hot enough, before turning his attention to start the next dish. Chicken thighs were dumped into a large pan, followed by thyme, bay and a jug of water. He added tomatoes, small hot peppers from his garden, several onions and measured out the rice ready to go in later. 

 

Dwalin had awoken to the peaceful sound of someone whistling in the distance. The sun shone through a leaded window and his body seemed supported by a cloud. He stretched feeling his joints pop loudly. He was in no hurry to get up and he actually felt safe for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace with himself and was in no hurry to ruin the strange feeling. He snuggled deeper under the heavy quilt, enjoying the smell of lavender and sandalwood that seemed to hover around it. His head was cushioned on the softest pillows Dwalin had ever known in his life, something tickled his ear and he swore realising one of his braids must have worked loose. That and the delicious smells wafting into his room-he was astounded at how nice that sounded and (although he would deny it forever) did a happy dance-forced him from his bed. Looking around the room, the previous day came flooding back to him and Dwalin sat heavily back down on the bed.

Soon though a happy smile was gracing his face making him look decades younger, there was a gleam in his eye and he picked up the whistling himself, easily following the merry tune. His hands worked swiftly untangling his many braids and drawing what he had left of his long, thick hair back into a simple plait. He looked at his boots and weapons, remembering his host’s promise the night before. He straightened his shoulders, he would show Bilbo he was trustworthy in return. Instead of going through the endless job of replacing his multitude of gear, Dwalin merely tidied them into a neat pile. As the air was warm he also shrugged out of his furs and the worst of his mail. He felt naked without them all, but he remembered his host had promised he was safe and for some reason he trusted the smaller male. So barefooted and weapon-less he followed his nose to the kitchen. His eyes widened as he reached the open door. The table was piled high with dishes ready to be cooked, the stove itself was already busy and his host was standing in vest and trousers, studding a pork joint with cloves. He leant on the doorjamb content to take in the sights before him. 

Bilbo knew his cheeks were flushed but he was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had entertained and he had forgotten how invigorating cooking for a large amount of people could be. He grinned as he checked the temperature of the oven with the back of his hand and once satisfied slid the joint in. He’d followed his mother’s recipe for the pork, the pang in his heart soothed by the knowledge she would have been proud of him. The joint was massive and it had taken awhile to stud it with the cloves, but between those and the orange slices Bilbo had managed to arrange under its skin he knew it would be delicious. He spun happily on the spot, smiling more widely when he saw his guest watching him from the doorway. “Come in Master Dwalin, don’t stand on ceremony,” Bilbo rapidly cleared a place on the table for his guest to sit at. “I hope you don’t mind but it’s stew and bread for lunch as it is far beyond even second breakfast and elevenses.” He saw the dwarf’s eyes crinkle and finally figure it meant he was smiling gently. “Excellent,” Bilbo chirped happily setting a large bowl of steaming stew down in front of the dwarf followed swiftly by the bread and a mug of strong black coffee, “If the drink is too bitter for your liking Master Dwalin I have milk.” He spun away to carry on with his cooking.

Dwalin watched him flit around as he ate the delicious stew in front of him, how someone could make a few vegetables and rabbit taste so nice he would never figure out. The smaller man seemed to be in his element as he moved gracefully around the large room. Dwalin’s eyes widened when he finally realised just how many of the dishes surrounding him contained meat of some kind. He was in such shock that he didn’t realise his host had stopped and was looking at him unsurely. “Master Dwalin?” Bilbo asked worriedly, and Dwalin felt a strong desire to set him at his ease, “I haven’t done anything wrong have I?” Dwalin watched the hobbit flap his hands at the mountains of food.

“Relax Bilbo,” he rumbled voice still rough from sleep, “I was merely surprised at how much effort you were willing to go to for a bunch of uninvited strangers.” He held up a large hand to stop the hobbit from talking, and smiled gently at him hoping the smaller man would actually know it was a smile. “I am not annoyed, how can I be when not only have you accepted me into your home, but you have taken care of me and treated me with kindness. I am now finding out you intend to do so for my kith and kin.” Dwalin leant forward and caught one of the long fingered hands in his own giving it a gentle squeeze. “No Bilbo,” he stated softly, still holding onto that hand, despite it being improper for him to do so, “You have done nothing wrong.” He felt himself relax as the hobbit smiled shyly at him, “It will just take a long while before any dwarf can just accept someone would be willing to go for this effort for us.” He squeezed the hand again watching an indignant expression cross his host’s face, “I know you are going to say it is nothing, but trust me Bilbo it is something to me.” He sighed and reached his other hand to brush flour from the hobbit’s nose, “It will be something to those who come today.” He straightened, fighting down a blush, as he released his host. “I know you said I was a guest and not to do anything, but is there anything I can do to help?”

 

Bilbo looked at him carefully, he was shocked by how much physical contact Dwalin was accepting and even starting himself, from what he had learnt of dwarves it was considered improper outside of family. He would still wait and see how the others acted before he judged though. At the larger man’s question he smiled. “No Master Dwalin,” he cocked his head thinking, “Unless you would like a bath?” He smiled as the grey eyes lit up, “It’s down the hall, third door on the left, there is plenty of hot water so don’t worry” He had to chuckle as the dwarf was out of the room almost before he was finished speaking. It was sweet how much home comforts effected the man. Bilbo frowned. If everything Dwalin had told him was right then he was going to go out of his way to make this a night his visitors would never forget.


	5. Arrivals.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The horde have arrived.

Chapter Four - Arrivals.

Dwalin knew it was rude, but his mind switched off at the word bath. Then Bilbo had uttered the magic words-hot water. He had been out of the room so fast he almost fell over his own feet, the sound of the hobbit’s chuckling following behind him. He had stopped and gazed in awe when he found the bathing room. To one side there stood a large copper tub, it was easily big enough to fit a family of Dwarrow and Dwalin had it all to himself.

As he stepped into the room he realised it was all plumbed in, there were plenty of fresh towels and even a lock on the door. The window was covered with some form of fabric that let light in but kept prying eyes out, Dwalin started to sing under his breath, turning the tap marked with the rune for hot, as he stripped quickly out of his clothes. He didn’t bother locking the door as there was only his host and himself in the house and he trusted the smaller man not to barge in. The tub was soon filled and Dwalin sank into the deliciously hot water, letting out an embarrassing groan as the heat flooded his limbs. There was soap and a pile of rough cloth on a shelf within easy reach and he set about stripping what could have been months of dirt off him. He could not remember the last time he’d had a hot bath and he was going to take advantage of Bilbo’s promise of plenty of hot water for as long as he could.

A small part of him –the part that was reacting merely out of habit-was still waiting for the hobbit to demand any sort of repayment for his actions, but in all Dwalin believed the smaller male was entirely truthful. He stopped scrubbing and frowned at the now black water, then looked to the taps with indecision, his host had said there was plenty of hot water. Dwalin bit his lip and threw his indecision to the wind. He pulled the plug, standing to let the last of the water run free, growling at the line of dirt that stayed on the bottom of the tub, he scrubbed it clear before refilling the bath with the deliciously hot water. He eyed a bottle of what appeared to be liquid soap and pulled it towards himself. When he popped the cork the smell of lavender and sandalwood flooded the bathing room and he relaxed completely. Liquid soap meant he could do his hair and beard if he so wished. It took him only seconds to decide he did so wish and his deft finger set about untying his braids and undoing clasps. It felt sinfully good to be washing his hair and beard, the smell of the soap was soothing and he was warm and comfortable.

Dwalin let himself drift in his mind, merely adding hot water when he felt the temperature drop. A ring of a bell roused him and he shook his head to clear it, glancing down at his hand. He had lay in the tub until his skin had actually gone wrinkly, he stared at it fascinated, he’d never bathed long enough for that to happen before, and he could feel himself grinning. He cast a look of disgust at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, before remembering he had packed extras. He pulled himself from the water, splashing onto the hard wood floor with a twinge of guilt, no matter what his host said he was cleaning that up later. He carefully squeezed the excess water from his hair and beard before emptying the tub. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself, moaning at how soft it was against his now sensitive skin, he looked at them carefully before snagging another one to dry his hair with properly. A cautious glance down the hall showed him it was empty and so leaving his dirty gear where it was, wrapped in nothing but a towel and hair dripping down his back Dwalin dashed into the room he’d been given. 

After watching Dwalin leave and hearing the moan of delight echo from the bathing room, Bilbo shook his head fondly and threw himself into making the food the best he could. As the afternoon progressed, dish after dish made their way out of the oven and onto Bilbo’s dining room table. He smiled at the spread, cold cuts of meat sat alongside dishes of cold pies and mounds of vegetables. He had just set the last of the hot food into cook, when a knock sounded at his front door. He looked up surprised, before glancing out of the open back door, his eyebrows rising as he took in the position of the sun. He splashed his face with cold water, ran long fingers through his hair and padded to open the door. He had a welcoming smile on his face when he took in his first visitor of the night. The dwarf had long white hair and a long two forked beard but no braids. His red velvet was worn in places but he had an air of authority and kindness about him.

“Balin, son of Fenwin at your service.” The white haired dwarf bowed shortly before standing to look at Bilbo.

“Bilbo Baggins, Son of Bungo at yours and your family's,” he answered bowing the correct height, “Please come in.” He opened the door wider and allowed the dwarf to step through, “It looks like a pleasant evening," he commented as he smiled gently at the older dwarf. 

“Aye,” Balin agreed pleasantly, shocked into smiling jovially at Bilbo, “It looks like rain later though.” He was impressed with the laddie's baring and even more so when he knew the correct greeting. He felt himself thaw towards the smaller male when he was led into a large, but homely sitting room. His eyes widened as his eyes took in the array of food there. “Erm laddie,” he began, wincing as he realised he could have committed a grave mistake, to his relief the hobbit was smiling.

“Well I suppose laddie is better than Master Baggins or Mister Bilbo,” he chuckled, “I know it is not much Master Balin, but I thought you might like to wait for the rest of your companions before we sat down to eat.” 

Balin looked at the younger male, and sighed softly, he felt the need to put the lad at ease, “It is okay laddie, I can wait. I’m not a rabid dog,” he chuckled, smiling in relief when the hobbit rolled his eyes. 

Bilbo couldn’t help the eye roll but Balin didn’t seem to be offended so he let it go, “Can I take your pack Master Balin? I won’t take it far, but if I prop it up in the hall there will be more room later.” He was handed the pack without comment as his new guest started to examine the foods he’d laid out for them to nibble on before every one arrived. He wandered back into the hall and smirked at the still firmly closed bathing room door. He had just placed Balin’s pack on one of the benches when another knock sounded at his door. He smiled widely when he opened the door and was instantly greeted by two bowing dwarves, one with ebony hair and one with golden locks.

“Fili”, chirped the golden haired one.

“And Kili”, Bilbo repressed another eye roll as the brunette chipped in. 

“At Your service.” They chorused together and Bilbo momentarily wondered if they practised that move.

They stood and Bilbo looked them over, they were no dirtier than Dwalin had been so he let them in with a chuckle before bowing himself, “Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo at your service.” He smiled at them, “Well you two at least seem cheerful enough, if you give me your packs and go through that door there you will find Master Balin waiting for you.”

He laughed out loud as two packs were thrust into his arms without question as the lads darted through the door with whoops of delight and cries of “Balin,” and “look Fi, Food!” echoed back to him.

Bilbo shook his head, “Now if they don’t make me feel old”.

His head shot up when he heard a commotion on his doorstep, it sounded like a group of dwarves arguing and he could not help the smirk that spread across his features. He was going to be travelling with a group of brothers. He listened carefully, they all seemed to be grouped together and leaning against the door if he wasn’t mistaken, so when the doorbell rang he opened the round green door with a pop, and forced an apologetic grimace on his face as they all fell in. “Oh dear me, I am so sorry, no one is hurt are they? Oh I do apologise,” he stuttered, falling silent only when the group had untangled themselves. He counted eight dwarves, meaning he was still missing the wizard and one dwarf. Suddenly they were all bowing to him and their names echoed over the others. “Wait, Wait,” he laughed, “One at a time please.” He took in each dwarf, memorising a detail to help him remember their names. 

“Bofur at your service.” Ah gravity defying braids and silly hat, looks warm though. 

“Bombur at your service” red skipping rope of a braided beard. 

“Grunt...Miz tnam bi...” Bilbo eyed the guttral dwarf carefully, as he waited for his name, someone else cut across obviousy thinking he had not understood. “Ah, he said Bifur at your service,” He loked carefully at the guttral dwarf. Oh excellent he thought, he has an axe in the head. 

“Dori at your service.” Looks like a tangled mop. 

“Nori at your service,” Tri-lobed hair. 

“Erm…Or...r…ri at your service.” Ah so cute, looks like someone’s cut his hair using a bowl. 

”Gloin at your service,” red hair.

“Oin at your service,” spitting image of red, but with grey hair.

He bowed deeply to them, “Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo at your service,” straightening he smiled, “If you want to leave you packs to the side and head through that door three of your company are already waiting.” He waited until their cries had subsided into happy quiet, before slipping back into the kitchen to rescue the hot food. 

Seeing most of it was ready he wandered back into his sitting room, absent-mindedly wondering if he should check on Dwalin in case he had drowned. He had to laugh when he saw most of the food had been eaten and the guilty looks half of the dwarves sent him when he entered. He decided to ignore them for now, “Oh good. I am glad you liked the nibbles. I didn’t know if your tastes were the same as mine.” He clapped his hands and suddenly eleven pairs of eyes were on him, “If you want to go through the other door dinner is almost ready. I would have preferred to wait for the rest of your company, but I do not know when they will get here and it seems a shame to let it go to waste.”

The mad scramble to the door was stopped when Dwalin walked in behind Bilbo, he didn’t seem to see his kin at first, “Ah Bilbo, there you are,” he began, “I was wondering if you had cooked yourself.”

Bilbo took in Dwalin standing barefooted in nought but a pair of loose trousers and an open necked shirt. His eyes widened as he realised the dwarf trusted him enough to do his braids in his presence. He chuckled as he tore his eyes away from the movements Dwalin’s deft fingers were making. “I’m not that bad a cook Master Dwalin,” his voice was unsteady with laughter and he got an eye crinkle in response, “You look more relaxed,” he dared venture, ignoring the gaping dwarves behind him. 

“I am,” rumbled Dwalin, “It’s amazing what a decent night’s sleep, good food and a hot bath can do. I object to smelling like a flower though. What are you doing Bilbo?” he chuckled as the hobbit leant in to sniff him.

Bilbo merely raised an eyebrow, “I was checking to see if you did smell of flowers and it’s only a little so don’t worry.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, “Can you tell me why eleven hungry males stopped moving on the quest for food?”

“Eleven hungry…” Dwalin looked over his host’s shoulder, oh he was never going to live this down, “Oh Mahal!” he groaned hiding his face in his hands, “When did that lot get here?” he looked at his host, “Stop laughing at me Bilbo,” he whined. 

“Sorry, oh goddess, my sides. Right stopping laughing.” He took a deep breath and turned to face the watching dwarves, taking in their gob smacked expressions. “Enough,” he grumbled, sensing Dwalin shifting behind him uncomfortably. His eyes narrowed and then he shot them all a wicked smirk, “You haven’t tasted my food so you can’t judge.” He watched as ten pairs of eyes went wide at that and ten dwarves resumed their rush to get into the dining room. Bilbo turned to Balin, “I’ll leave you two to catch up,” he turned to leave and squeezed Dwalin’s hand comfortingly, “Don’t be too long I can’t promise I can stop them all eating the food.” With that he left the two brothers alone and wandered off to his kitchen. He was now greatly confused.


	6. Dinnertime.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unknown to them said guardsman was watching them all through the dining room door, confusion written clearly across his face.

Chapter Five - Dinnertime.

While Bilbo was in his kitchen plating up the hot food, and wondering about the strangeness of his guests, Dwalin and Balin were catching up in his sitting room, and the rest of the dwarves were sitting staring longingly at the food already on the table. Not one of them had made a move to touch it yet, worried as to what would happen to them if they started without their host. Quiet conversation flowed back and forth, the main topic being the startling change in the attitude and actions of the guardsman Dwalin. The younger dwarves had never known him as anything other than a stern warrior with no time for relaxation or humour, but several of the older dwarves could remember him from the days of Erebor’s prosperity and to the interest of the company were telling tales of his youthful actions. Hope shone in the eyes of Gloin and Oin especially, if Dwalin had found the hobbit so worthy as to revert back to the side of his character they had thought long lost then the quest to retake their home seemed promising.

Unknown to them said guardsman was watching them all through the dining room door, confusion written clearly across his face. “I haven’t changed that much since I was a wee laddie have I brother?” he asked turning to Balin for confirmation, “I mean I know I am a bit quicker to anger than I used to be, but …” he trailed off as he watched Balin shake his head, the huge grin on his brother’s face both worrying and pleasing him.

“Do not worry about it brother. Yes you have changed, but it was for good reason, it is good you can relax around the laddie.” Balin looked into his younger brother’s face and saw years of anguish eased in the space of two nights, “It was nice of our host to leave us to catch up, even nicer of the laddie to trust us alone in his home. I did not have the heart to tell our host that, we at least, had only seen each other just this week.” Dwalin took a step back at the wicked smirk that spread over his brother’s face, “So,” chuckled Balin, “Do you want to tell me why you are so relaxed around our host? I saw him grab your hand.” Dwalin felt himself flush, and Balin’s chuckles became a full on belly laugh.

“Oh shut up,” the warrior groused, grabbing his brother’s arm and steering him into the dining room, “Come on there’s food in there and I’ve only had stew all day.”

To the fascination of the watching company Dwalin started to pile his plate as soon as he had reached the table, he looked up to find them all watching him with undisguised worry across their faces, “Oh for the love of….” He growled, “Look, Bilbo will be more offended if you do not eat the food he’s spent all day cooking for you!”

“Well at least I finally got it through your skull Master Dwalin,” smirked Bilbo from the door, arms laden with steaming platters of food. "I was really hoping you would have cleared a space so I could put the hot stuff down by now. Thank you Master Dwalin,” he glowered up at the tall dwarf who’d rose to take some of the platters from him, “But I am sure I have told you that as a guest you don’t need to be doing anything.”

Dwalin ducked his head, “Sorry Mister Bilbo.” He cautiously placed the platters down on the sideboard, only for Bilbo to slam his own down.

“Oh don’t start that again Master Dwalin,” he growled, standing with his hands on his hips, “If you haven’t figured by now I want to feed you, I want to cook for you, for the company, then I give up.” He crossed his arms, glaring at Dwalin, then sighed as the large dwarf continued to look guilty, “Never mind Master Dwalin.” He grabbed the dwarf’s elbow and steered him back to the seat he’d claimed, “Can you go back to calling me just Bilbo please?” he smiled winningly at the dwarf, ignoring the rest of the company who seemed to be holding their breath. He nudged Dwalin with his hip and the dwarf’s grey eyes finally met his.

“Sorry Bilbo, it’s just…” Dwalin trailed off, before nodding resolutely. “Of course I can,” he smiled at the hobbit, “Only if you accept that I am not actually used to being waited on.” He nudged the hobbit’s hip with his elbow, “Why don’t I introduce you properly? Then this lot might actually eat your food.”

“Fine, fine,” Bilbo flapped his hands, “But I did introduce myself at the door you know.”

“I don’t doubt you for a second,” Dwalin looked around the room, he pointed out Balin, “That there is my brother,” he smirked at Bilbo, “As you had already guessed of course. I hope you realise he is my older brother mind you.” He smiled smugly at Balin when Bilbo chuckled beside him.

"Right, next in line is Mister Bombur, excellent cook, in fact I believe the only person’s food I have tried who has come close to yours. Ouch Bilbo, you have sharp elbows,” he rubbed his ribs and pouted at the smiling hobbit. “Next to him is his brother Bofur, he has a really strange sense of humour, try not to take it to personally aye?” Bilbo nodded at him, eyes alight with laughter and Dwalin felt himself loose the last of the nerves his slip up had caused him.

"Mister Bifur is the one with the axe in his head, he is a genius when it comes to craft. He could make toys for kings if people weren’t so narrow minded,” Dwalin realised he hadn’t managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice when Bilbo rested a hand on his shoulde. Then he had to fight down the blush that started to spread up from his collar at the amazed, and in some cases scandalised, glances from the company. “The red haired dwarf is Gloin, fierce warrior and excellent blacksmith, his focus is on weapons rather than armour though. Beside him is his brother Oin, he will be our healer on the journey,” Dwalin grinned at the grey-haired dwarf, “Some of his teas taste like feet though.”

Bilbo’s bright laughter rang through the room, and Dwalin allowed himself a small smile as the shoulders of the dwarves named so far relaxed slightly. “The one with the big hair is Mister Nori, he is a canny lad, beside him….” Bilbo had slapped a hand around his mouth and he raised a questioning eyebrow at the hobbit.

“Sorry,” muttered Bilbo, “I just wondered, hmmm, never mind of course he is. Carry on.” He flapped his hands and Dwalin gave him a funny look, before he caught on.

“Oh yes, yes that’s him. Now don’t glower at him, he’ll hide and we’ll never be able to find him. Where was I?” Dwalin ignored Nori’s look of insult at the suggestion he would hide, he actually thought considering Nori’s bad relations with most races he would have made himself as unobtrusive as possible, but he wasn’t going to bring that up.

"Ah yes, besides Mister Nori are my nephews Fili and Kili. Fili is the blonde one, takes after my brother he does. Kili takes after his mother. Well they do in looks, right pair of pranksters they think themselves. Don’t pout at me lads it’s the truth, and you can stop looking scandalised Bilbo.” Dwalin rested a finger on his lips for a second, “Master Dori used to be a tea merchant in Erebore, he makes some strange sounding combinations but he had buyers all over. Why are you dancing Bilbo?”

“Oh goddess, as in ‘Ri Teas’? As in the provider of … Oh my… I am honoured Master Dori, I really am.” Bilbo looked at Dwalin’s shocked face, “Erm sorry.”

Dwalin was staring at Bilbo like he had never seen him, how the smaller man continued to surprise him he didn’t understand, he cleared his throat roughly, “Erm yes that’s the one, how? Never mind. Beside him is the youngest Ri brother Mister Ori. He is probably one of the smartest Dwarrows you will ever meet, anywhere, if a bit addicted to knitting.” Dwalin smiled kindly at the young scribe, who was now glowing red but smiling happily.

He looked around, “Well that’s all of us Bilbo, shall I tell them something about you?” he smiled gently as the hobbit nodded. “Hmmm, well this is our host Mister Bilbo Baggins. He is a well-mannered hobbit who doesn’t approve of guests working, and he reacts like a dwarf to insults,” he smirked at the prod in the ribs he received. “Hey! That was a compliment I promise. Now what else? Ah yes his food is fantastic and if I don’t get to eat soon I will be really annoyed at you all.”

“Really Master Dwalin,” huffed Bilbo, feeling secretly pleased, “Why don’t you all start eating. The hot stuff is behind you on the sideboard and the stuff on the table is cold.” He stopped and smirked at Dwalin who had started to dig in to his food, glad the dwarf at least understood there was no price to be paid for the food. “You might want to dig in before Master Dwalin eats it all.”

Ori pushed to his feet, nervously wringing his hands together, “That’s not right Master Baggins,” he managed to get out without stuttering, he did gulp when Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him, but the nodding of all the dwarves bar Dwalin gave him courage to continue. "I mean you are our host you should get first pickings.” He sat down beet red and lowered his eyes to the table cloth, worried his speaking out would annoy their host and stop them all from enjoying the food. 

Bilbo frowned at Ori, seemingly failing to understand. He noticed the nervous reaction of the young dwarf and walked around the table. He crouched beside Ori and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, using the other to tilt the lad’s face so he could see it. “What do you mean Master Ori?” he questioned softly, “It would be rude of me to invite you all in for dinner and then force you to wait until I brought all the food up to eat, besides it would get cold.” He tilted his head as Ori chewed his lower lip, “Master Ori,” he prompted gently, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Startled brown eyes flashed to his face “I don’t wanna get in trouble if you are joking with me Master Baggins, I‘m really hungry but I know better than to eat before my host and I know better than to eat anything other than what you put on my plate, I … Oh Mahal I am sorry Master Baggins. I am so sorry. Please….” Ori trailed off and the company stared at the now shaking hobbit. Bilbo hadn’t moved from beside the young dwarf and his hands were still gentle, but he knew his eyes were flashing and his face was set into stern lines. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Stiffly he pushed to his feet and left the room anxious that the dwarves not see him cry.

As the door swung shut behind him a storm of whispers broke out, Dwalin had finally had enough. “Quiet!” he bellowed, as he rushed around the table to try and soothe a shaking Ori, he kept his touch light as he rubbed calming circles onto the lad’s back, “Bilbo isn’t angry at Ori,” Dwalin fought to keep his voice calm and controlled. “Look, I know it is hard to accept but the hobbit really actually means what he said, he will be more upset if you don’t eat what he has cooked for you all than if you eat it all and don’t leave him any."

He glowered as the protests started up again. "Seriously that is enough,” he stared at each dwarf in turn his hands never ceasing their soothing motions on Ori’s back. "When I arrived he treated me with respect and kindness, he invited me into his home, turned his back on me several times even though I was obviously armed, was polite, fed me, and gave me a bed for the night. He did not judge me when I explained our people’s history to him, he already knew of the dragon and Azanulbizar, he did not pity me. Again this morning he offered me a place to bathe and he fed me again.”

Dwalin stopped and looked around the room, “Yes I know it is hard not to react as we have become used to but he honestly sees us as equals.” His eyes settled on Nori, and he saw understanding dawn in the green eyes, “His reaction there was more likely to be because of how we have been treated in the past, he sets a large store by manners and what we see as being a great kindness, an act of extreme selflessness is the norm for him if he receives guests no matter what their race.” Dwalin sighed, “Are you feeling any calmer Mister Ori?” 

“Yes thank you Master Dwalin, how do I apologise to our host without offending him?” 

Dwalin looked down into innocent brown eyes, “You really don’t have to Mister Ori, believe me, our host has probably just left the room to gather his thoughts, and he will also probably bring the rest of the food back with him.” He glanced around the room, taking in disbelieving faces, “Really?” he snapped, “Fine, your best bet at an apology is to start eating the food he has spent hours making for us all. I know that is what I am going to do.” Dwalin stomped back to his seat, and sat with a huff, he wished he dared go after the hobbit and offer him some of the support the smaller man had shown him since his arrival the previous day. He risked a glance around the room, and sighed with relief when he saw the rest of the company beginning to sample the food, even if they were doing so with guilty expressions on their faces. 

Bilbo had somehow managed to hitch a smile back onto his face and stomp down his anger. He hauled the joint of pork up from the kitchens, his mouth watering at the smell wafting off it. He heard the noise stop as he came back into the dining room and resisted the urge to stomp his feet and scream that he was not going to hurt any of them. Taking a deep breath he shot a blinding smile at Dwalin. “Ah Master Dwalin, perhaps you would like to carve?”


	7. Revelations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As eyes met over the table they suddenly understood what Dwalin had been trying to tell them.

_Chapter Six - Revelations. ___

Despite his tough talk minutes before Dwalin froze as he regarded the hobbit over his fork. Deciding to keep placing his trust in the smaller man he pushed slowly to his feet and ambled around the table, forcing his hands to stop shaking. He wondered if Bilbo knew what an honour he was bestowing on the dwarf, and was hard pushed to return the gentle smile he got as he was passed the wicked looking blade. 

Bilbo pretended he hadn’t caught the pause, but the fact the big dwarf still thought him capable of harm cut deep, despite the fact logic told him one day wasn’t enough to build any sort of true trust. He smiled gently as he handed the blade to the big dwarf before taking a plate for himself. He was lost in his head as he loaded his plate with the chicken chilli no-one else had touched. He was hurt at the small quantities of food that seemed to have been taken and was struggling with how to get the obviously hungry males in his dining room to eat. He straightened and glared at the picture of his Grandfather Baggins on the mantelpiece, with a huff he turned it face down and turned to observe the dwarves. His eyes landed on an obviously upset Ori, and he frowned at the lack of food on the young dwarf’s plate. He felt very protective and despite knowing every other body in the room was likely to be older than him-he knew enough of dwarven law to know they came of age at between seventy five to eighty-felt a surge of paternal emotion for them all. Straightening his back and forcing a gentle smile onto his lips Bilbo grabbed another plate, he would make sure they all ate and if it meant he had to pile their plates high himself he would do so. Setting his own full plate to one side he set about his attempt to ease the young dwarf’s mind, his eyes darted around the (luckily) still hot food deciding what he could give Ori to tempt him, his eyes landed on the lamb and potato dish.

“Here Master Ori,” he spoke softly careful not to startle the skittish dwarves in his dining room, behind him he could hear Dwalin making short work of carving the pork, and despite the audible gasps he kept his eyes fixed on the nervous dwarf in front of him. Ori looked up, his brown eyes full of worry and Bilbo made an effort to force his face into being even more calming. “I was not angry at you Master Ori,” he crooned, “Angry at who had dared show such bad manners, yes. Angry at you, no. I apologise if my actions offended or worried you in anyway.” He watched as the fear in the brown eyes receded slightly, “Now I know I said to tuck in and I really wish you would, but I cannot force you to eat if you do not want to.” He heard Dwalin shift uncomfortably behind him, the pieces were slowly slotting into place for Bilbo and he wanted to hug Ori until the small dwarf relaxed, he didn’t dare, but the thought was there. He smiled winningly at the young dwarf, “Would you be more comfortable if I pulled you a plate together Master Ori?” Behind him even Dwalin stopped carving, but Bilbo held Ori’s gaze, although out of the corner of his eye he could see the be-hatted dwarf absent-mindedly nibbling on the radishes in front of him. “Master Ori?” he prompted, watching the gears start to turn in Ori’s mind. He waited patiently for the small dwarf to come to a decision.

Ori pulled his lip between his teeth as he dared to hold the gaze of his host. His reaction had been ingrained in him from a young age, but if Mister Dwalin was to be believed then he had offended his host badly, he was still waiting to be rebuked for this and so Bilbo’s offer had surprised him. He tugged the sleeves of his knits between his fingers as understanding started to come to him. Master Baggins meant them no harm and if Master Dwalin was to be believed – and Ori knew the guardsman was the most honest person he would ever meet- then their host had actually made the food for them, he actually wanted them to be comfortable, to be warm and well fed, and Master Baggins didn’t want anything in response. He felt his eyes widen and the corner of his mouth hitch into a half smile without his permission. “If it be okay Master Baggins,” whispered Ori, still not daring to raise his voice, “I do not want to inconvenience you,” he lowered his eyes feeling suddenly shy rather than fearful, “I do not know what most of the dishes are, although that one with the rice smells heavenly.”

Bilbo leant in close to catch the whispered words that the dwarf was speaking to the floor, his eyes widened and he dared lay a gentle hand over Ori’s shaking ones, stopping their destruction of the hem of his garment, “Of course it’s not a problem Master Ori,” he smiled the brown eyes flew to his, “Do you want a big plate or a little plate.”

Ori smiled shakily back at him and Bilbo gave himself a pat on the back for setting the smaller dwarf at ease, “Small please Master Baggins, I…erm…it all looks really good.”

Bilbo pushed to his feet, hiding his wince as his knees popped and smiled widely at Ori, “Of course Master Ori,” he allowed his eyes to widen slightly and saw Ori catch the mischief in them. The small dwarf seemed torn between smiling or eating his own lip, Bilbo winked at him and turned to look at the rest of the dwarves…most of whom were staring at him in astonishment. “Oh dear,” Bilbo muttered backing into Dwalin. He felt the larger dwarf lay a hand on his shoulder, and turned pleading eyes to the larger male, “Master Dwalin,” he whispered sensing the other dwarves lean in to hear, “They won’t all be expecting me to bring them food will they? I mean as a host I would do it if they were expecting it, but I’m likely to fall over my own feet at some point and someone will end up covered in food.” He bit his lip and looked up at Dwalin with wide eyes. 

Dwalin felt his lip twitch when he finally caught on to what Bilbo was trying to do. “Nay Bilbo,” he rumbled trying to keep his face straight and glad of the help his beard gave him, he kept his eyes on Bilbo’s green-hazel ones so the dwarves wouldn’t see the twinkle in their grey depths. “They won’t be expecting you to wait on them,” he rubbed his thumb in a soothing motion where it was on Bilbo’s shoulder. There was shifting of bodies and Dwalin looked up meeting the shrewd green eyes of Nori, he smiled slightly when Nori rolled his eye and pushed to his feet.

“Master Baggins,” stated Nori simply, and Bilbo took a deep breath, shrugging Dwalin’s hand off his shoulder. He ignored the large dwarf’s chuckle and turned to the one he knew to be a –how was it Dwalin had put it? Ah yes-token scoundrel, with a smile on his face. 

“Yes Master Nori?” 

“Perhaps you could tell me what some of the dishes are, Master Baggins,” Bilbo’s heart broke a little at the carefully disguised worry in the tall dwarf’s voice, “It’s just I am a bit of a picky eater,” Nori finished with a nonchalant air. He kept his gaze solely on their host, he needed to believe the guardsman, but he knew he was poised to run. He winced when Bilbo sighed, until those green-hazel eyes locked on his. 

Bilbo smiled softly up at him, “Of course Master Nori,” he waved a hand at the dishes, the other spooning a small amount of chicken and rice up for Ori, “Which ones did you want to know?”

With Bilbo distracted Dwalin turned to look at his kin. Ori was chewing his lip again, but the premature lines around the lad’s eyes had lessened. Bofur seemed content nibbling on strange red and white balls, his eyes watering when he got-what Dwalin suspected-was a particularly hot one. Bifur was examining a dish of potatoes with interest, Dwalin tilted his head so he could see better, they seemed to be covered in white sauce that had green flecks in. He shrugged, as long as Bifur was happy. Gloin and Oin were cautiously filling their plates with slices of cold meat and they met his eyes when they gazed longingly at the fragrant pork he had been carving. Bombur was prodding at a brightly coloured, wobbling thing that was surrounded by fruit and cream, he saw the large dwarf’s eyes light up and smiled in relief when at least one of his kin threw caution to the wind and dug in. Dori seemed torn between worry at Ori, longing glances at the food, happiness that Bilbo had heard of his teas, depression that he no longer had his tea exchange and pride in Nori (Dwalin was willing to bet he didn’t know what to make of that last emotion). Balin met his eyes and Dwalin felt himself smile widely, gesturing at the food on the table, there was caution in his brother’s eyes that cut Dwalin deep, but his brother soon nodded and Dwalin was piling a plate high for him. He chuckled out loud when he saw his brother’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of food on the plate catching Bilbo’s attention, “Ah Master Dwalin.”

“Aye?” he grunted wincing at his own lack of manners, he wanted to get back to his food, but he owed his host manners.

Bilbo merely chuckled at him, “Could you take this plate to Master Ori please?” He waved the laden plate under the large dwarf’s nose, and Dwalin raised his eyebrows at what Bilbo though was a small portion, before focusing back on what his host was saying, “It’s just I haven’t finished explaining the dishes Master Nori is interested in and I don’t want it to get cold.”

He actually wanted the guardsman away so he could try and put Nori at ease. The dwarf was a good actor, and Bilbo supposed that came with the way Nori lived his life, but it was putting Bilbo on edge and he would much prefer the other male to be this relaxed honestly (or maybe not relaxed but honest in his interactions). “Master Nori,” he groaned, “Please drop the Master Baggins malarkey, surely we are similar enough you can stop treating me like this?” He couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him at the look of surprise the dwarf shot him. He leant in closer, lowering his voice confidentially as he did, “Can I tell you something Master Nori?” Nori nodded suspicion now clear in his whole form, and Bilbo nearly sighed in relief before remembering it would give him away. “It is very nice to have someone else who understands here, I was worried I was going to be surrounded by law abb…” he trailed off and looked at Nori with worry, causing the dwarf to start. “You are aren’t you?” demanded Bilbo, watching as Nori seemed to relax as if he was on more familiar territory. “I mean you are the one who taught Master Dwalin that mark?” he peered sternly at the tall dwarf, “You are one of us aren’t you?”

Nori nodded his surprise finally leaving him, “Aye Master…erm…what can I call you then?” he glowered at his host, the conversation seemed too rehearsed to him, but he suddenly realised he had relaxed. At the raised eyebrow of his host he sighed, uncrossing his arms, “Fine mas…Bilbo, that’s just wrong of you to play that trick on an un-expecting Dwarrow.” He smiled widely, “I think you’re going to fit right in.” It wasn’t until he reached his seat with a plate loaded with food that he realised he’d turned his back on his host. He risked a glance over at the said male and huffed as he took in Bilbo hanging onto the sideboard, attempting to hide his laughter. 

When Bilbo looked around the room, having calmed himself and with a small headache from forcing down his laughter, his eyes settled on the next dwarf he had to calm. He slipped from the room, and was back before he was missed, a tea pot and several china mugs on a tray. He carefully shifted the milk, lemon slices and sugar so they sat evenly before making his way over to Dori. He cleared his throat, not wanting to startle the dwarf as that would undo a lot of his work. “Master Dori?” he began softly, waiting until the dwarf turned to look at him. He smiled and hefted the tray, “If you are not hungry would you take a cup of tea with me?” Bilbo shrugged apologetically, “It won’t be as nice as the stock you used to deal with, but I promise it doesn’t taste like feet.” His jibe got a small, stilted chuckle from the prim and proper dwarf, and a huff from Oin. 

“That would be nice Master Baggins,” he decided after a moment’s deliberation. He had seen his middle brother relax enough to share a joke with the hobbit, his youngest brother relax enough to eat the food in front of him and he wanted to get a chance to make his own judgement of the male who had managed to make the formidable Dwalin relax. He shifted the chairs so his host could sit down, “I’m sure it will be lovely tea.” He leant in confidentially surprising himself, “It has been far too long since I could enjoy a civilised cup of tea.” He pulled back sharply at the blank look Bilbo gave him.

“And can you do that today Master Dori?” whispered Bilbo, “Enjoy it I mean.” He frowned at the steel haired dwarf. “I mean no disrespect Master Dori, but not one of you has relaxed in my presence tonight, not even Master Dwalin, who I thought understood me enough.” He turned tired eyes onto the openly shocked dwarf next to him and carefully poured the tea, handing a mug to him, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you understand how heart breaking it is to see guests acting as if you are going to slip them poison or stab them in the back?” He sighed hanging his head, “Sorry Master Dori, I guess I just needed to vent and I have no idea why I chose to bother you with this.” He went to push up and felt a gentle hand on his elbow.

Dori felt increasingly more guilty as the hobbit talked. He hadn’t thought about how they would come across to the male who had graciously welcomed them into his home. His hand shot out without conscious decision and he steered the hobbit back down into the chair, “My apologies Master Baggins. It probably hasn’t occurred to us that we were making you uncomfortable. I feel bad about how we have treat you, but...” he paused and looked at the hobbit deciding to be blunt with the smaller male, he would deal with the consequences if he wasn’t as trust worthy as Dwalin thought. “Look, I will be honest with you Master Baggins, we have not had an easy life since Erebor fell to the worm. We have learnt to be distrustful and cautious around strangers. I have had to watch one of my brothers turn to disreputable activities to survive and...” Dori looked at Ori from under his lashes, lowering his voice so as not to disturb his baby brother who was actually eating and shyly joining in the conversation between Fili and Kili. “I had to watch my baby brother being physically hurt for eating without permission. I had to hear even the children of men taunt him when he was hungry and in pain. I had to watch as he, no more than a child, had to work so as we wouldn’t starve.” Dori’s voice wobbled, “I couldn’t protect them Master Baggins! I couldn’t protect my younger brothers I have to live knowing they bare scars I could have prevented if I was stronger if I…if I...” Dori trailed off his hands shaking and voice catching on a sob.

Bilbo clattered his cup down, uncaring of chipping the delicate china and drawing the attention of most of the dwarves in the room. “Master Dori,” he gasped pulling the trembling dwarf into his hold. Dori fought back for mere seconds before relaxing into the hold and sobbing into Bilbo’s chest. Bilbo could feel himself shaking as Dori’s word sunk in but focused his entire being on trying to sooth the distraught dwarf. “I give you my word Master Dori,” he whispered caring little who over heard, “I give you my word, for what it is worth to you that I will hurt neither of your brothers.” He got a hiccup in response and groped in his pocket for a handkerchief, before presenting it to a still sobbing Dori. “I give you my word that I offer you the safety of my home. I offer what little protection I can to you and your brothers Master Dori.” He forced the now quietly crying dwarf to look at him, “For what it’s worth I could murder those who have laid a hand on Master Ori. I could merrily hunt down those who forced Master Nori into fighting for his survival.” He smiled grimly at the now staring dwarf, “Not that I would be able to do much damage Master Dori,” he muttered, “I am just a hobbit.” He was surprised when Dori instead of drawing away from the physical contact, threw his arms around Bilbo’s shoulders. He awkwardly patted the dwarf on the shoulder, a tight feeling in his own chest, his voice coming out as a rumbling growl, that was no less threatening for its higher pitch, as he closed his eyes to hide his own anger. “No one has the right to hurt a child.”

Silence once again reigned in the dining room of Bag End as twelve dwarves stared in shock as the unflappable Dori broke down. Dori’s refreshed sobs the only sound to be heard. Nori was the first to move, flinging himself bodily at his brother and Bilbo, his extra weight knocking them from the chair, Bilbo barely flinched but wrapped an arm around Nori’s shaking shoulders. Ori was caught in a death grip between the brothers Fili and Kili, his shaking frame plastered between their chests. Bilbo’s promise struck a chord with all of them, and as eyes met over the table they suddenly understood what Dwalin had been trying to tell them.


	8. Drink is not the answer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might not understand what had set him off, but they were family and they would not let him fall.

_Chapter Seven – Drink is not the Answer. ___

As Bilbo sat on the floor, wrapped in two dwarves he had never met before, he was finding it hard to control his anger. With his eyes shut he couldn’t see the responses of the other males in his dining room, but he could hear the young Fili and Kili trying to comfort a gasping Ori. His eyes shot wide as he realised something else, he forced himself into a sitting position and coaxed Dori and Nori into releasing him and hugging each other instead. Ignoring the throbbing in his lower back he pushed slowly to his feet, even in his own angry state he didn’t want to move to fast and startle the now emotional and still heavily armed dwarves.

“Master Dwalin,” he winced minutely as his voice still came out in the closest version of a growl it could reach. He cleared his throat, but the next attempt wasn’t much better. “If you could get everyone comfortable I would be most appreciative.” He swallowed at the surprised look Dwalin managed to dig from somewhere, “I know I said as a guest you shouldn’t have to do anything but I … it’s just…” Bilbo took a deep breath and shut his eyes blocking out the sight of the staring male. 

The dwarves watched as the hobbit gradually stopped shaking, they had been taken aback by his response to what they could only assume Dori had told him, and shocked by the obvious anger in the smaller man’s face. It seemed strange to them that someone could calm down from that anger without shouting or hitting something, but despite the growling undertones their host had managed a few sentences already. They were confused about the statement just made, but looking at Dwalin’s face they gathered he understood what was meant. Balin’s eyes widened as he realised what Bilbo was doing, and Nori’s jaw dropped as he looked up from his position on the floor and he saw the hobbit calm himself by simply breathing.

Bilbo opened his eyes feeling a little more able to cope. “My apologies Master Dwalin. What I meant to ask was would you show people where the bathing room, kitchen and so on are located? I need to slip out for a few moments and I would rather everyone was comfortable.” He stopped and looked sadly around the room, “Besides you can all probably relax more if I am not here for a while.” He held up a hand as Dwalin surged to his feet stopping both the large dwarf in his movement and the denials from Balin, Bofur and Nori. “No I understand. Well I sort of understand.” 

He looked carefully at the white haired dwarf standing beside Dwalin, “Master Balin, please understand I am not offended by any actions in this room tonight, I just need a small time to absorb what I have just learnt.” He took a deep breath and switched his gaze to Nori, “Master Nori, please make sure your brothers and yourself have a cup of tea each, with plenty of sugar in it, do try to get Master Dori and Ori to eat something if they can.” Before anyone could respond, he gave a short bow and nearly ran out of the room. 

As mayhem erupted around him, Dwalin stood frozen - half way from his seat- he had seen the anger and desperation in their host’s eyes before Bilbo had managed to calm himself down. He shut his eyes and tried to do the same. It was a lost effort. Grief, guilt, anger and sadness raged in his chest, while shouts and growls echoed around him. 

“Enough!” he bellowed, slamming both hands down on the table, making the cutlery jump and rattle. He breathed through his nose, deliberately calming his voice when he saw Ori flinch, “Sorry Mister Ori.” He looked around the room, “Our host,” he rumbled, “Bilbo, has to try and take in that not every one acts like him.” Dwalin could feel his voice wavering as he spoke, “I know it is hard,” he shut his eyes blocking out the surprise on his nephews’ faces, “Believe me I know.” He lowered his head, blinking back tears, his sad eyes met those of a still shaking Ori, his voice barely a whisper now, “We, by acting the way we are, we are giving him the same treatment we have become accustom to.” Dwalin saw understanding dawning in Ori’s brown eyes and he dared to look at others. Nori was standing one hand keeping Dori in a chair the other half reaching out for the tea pot, shock and shame written clearly across his sharp features. Bofur was sitting slumped in his chair, a hand over his face and another on Bifur’s shoulder. He turned to Balin and saw regret painting his brother’s features, he took a breath and turned his back on them, “We need to try to accept he at least offers us no insult and no injury. He offers us kindness, hospitality and what help he can.” His hand curled around the back of his chair and he stared at his bare knuckles, “I doubt Bilbo even knows…I doubt he could ever be able to act in the manner of those who we are used to dealing with.”

His voice broke and he turned to leave the room, at the door he paused, “If anyone wants me I will be sitting on the bench at the front gate...” his voice was so quiet that not even a sharp eared Nori fully heard his last words, “Debating if I have the right to call myself a dwarf.”

Bilbo had left Bag End in his vest and was now sitting on his roof, with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He was struggling to understand how anyone could hurt a child in the way Dori had described, his mind drawing a blank at the very idea. Anger he had not felt for two decades when Jenny had gone missing was warring with the need to wrap each and every dwarf in a warm blanket and mother them until they smiled easily. He could feel the tremors running through his body and clenched his fists hard. The dwarves didn’t –and he understood, couldn’t – trust him, so the mothering them was out. He glared sullenly at the rolling green hills around him, watching as the colours bled out with the coming of night, painting the Shire in shades of grey. There was no one, nothing here he could take his anger out on, it had been bad enough that he had responded the way he had to Master Dwalin’s admission the evening before, and he couldn’t just go to the tavern and scream at people again. His head snapped up, he couldn’t go to the tavern to scream, but he could go and get very drunk. It wouldn’t help in the long run, but alcohol and friends might stop him dwelling. Standing, he brushed the grass of his breeches before setting of at a brisk pace to the Green Dragon.

He didn’t bang the door when he got there but instead sidled inside. The warmth and noise nearly had him turning around again, but then he remembered that if he went home he would have to face a group of dwarves that either flinched if he made a sudden movement or who offered him false smiles. His mind was making up images of a young Ori cowering before a screaming figure, a younger Kili staring tear eyed as he was denied food, a defiant Nori facing jail time, a pale Fili arms wrapped around himself against the cold.

Bilbo blindly pushed his way to the bar. He was on his fourth tankard of black ale and still the images kept coming. Dori screaming in rage trying to fight his way to a curled up Ori. Balin staring with blank eyes at death and destruction around him on the slopes of Azanulbizar. Gloin and Oin standing shoulder to shoulder weapons drawn, but their shoulders slumped.

Bilbo tightened his grip on the new tankard, this wasn’t working. He downed the ale, his knuckles gleaming palely with the strength of his grip. He shut his eyes, ignoring the widening space around him as hobbits shuffled away from him. The darkness behind his eyes didn’t help. He saw the cheerful face of Bofur, pale and drawn. He saw Bifur stumbling blindly as the axe hit him. He saw Bombur standing arms akimbo in front of his faceless family.

He swallowed hard, not realising tears were running down his face. He opened his eyes and the barman, a long-time friend backed away from him, stumbling over an empty barrel as he desperately tried to get away from the dead eyes. Bilbo didn’t see him, didn’t hear his cousin calling to him from across the room, he was seeing what Dwalin had described. He saw the flames, heard the screams of orcs. He felt the grief of losing loved ones, the fear of having no hope.

He growled and flung the tankard across the bar. Those that hadn’t noticed his break down stilled and turned to him with wide eyes. He stood shaking, fists curled tightly at his sides, cheeks wet, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. It wasn’t working, he could see their pain all too easily. It was too close to what his own people's could have become. His cousin Drogo must have worked up the courage to approach him, because suddenly Bilbo was pulled into a warm embrace. He fought against it at first, but slowly stilled. He was shaking, and his fingers curled in the front of Drogo’s jacket, he didn’t realise he was whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I couldn’t save them, oh Yavanna, I couldn’t save them.” Drogo tightened his hold, and was soon joined by Saradoc Took and a shaking Primula Baggins nee Proudfoot. Soon all three were wrapped around their older cousin, they had been younger than him in the Fell Winter and while they might not have seen what he’d seen, or lost what he’d lost they needed no prompting to understand his grief. They might not understand what had set him off, but they were family and they would not let him fall.

 

Dwalin sat in front of the bench outside of Bag End, he was curled as small as he could get his muscular frame. He stared unseeingly as he tried to work through his emotions. The fingers of one hand gripped the worn material of his trousers, while the rest worried his hair. It was strange to think that it was only that morning he had felt a sense of safety and peace. Now he was fighting with his emotions. His grief at losses he’d long passed the mourning period for was hitting him hard, having seen a glimmer of the same loss in Bilbo’s hazel-green eyes. He’d lost his king, his brother and his mother at the battle of Azanulbizar. He’d been too slow to save his baby sister as she took an orc blade through the stomach, he’d later held a screaming Oin and learnt she had also been with child. He’d thrown himself into fighting and Oin into healing at their loss. He felt guilt at the thought of how he had acted towards the hobbit, Bilbo had been nothing but kind to him and Dwalin had not been able to find the words to stop his kin treating him like scum. He felt guilt at all the years his nephews had gone hungry, starved for affection as their mother and uncles wallowed in grief and shame. He felt shame at how low his people had fallen, he felt shame that the crown prince would be ripping Bilbo away from the safety of his home, he felt shame for all he’d done over the years. He closed his eyes, fighting down a sob, he was ashamed at the way he had treated Mister Nori over the years. The lad had tried his best to help his family, blackening his own name so his older and younger brothers could survive. Dwalin felt the anger well up then, from anger at his own actions it quickly became anger at how his people had been treated over the years. He pushed to his feet new determination showing in his eyes, Bilbo had been right. No one had the right to harm a child. 

As he turned to go back into the smial he was surprised to see his brother standing in the door way watching him. Four large strides later and he was hugging Balin for all he was worth. To his credit Balin merely hugged him back. They stood in the doorway of Bag End, bathed in moonlight and warm candle light and new hope bloomed in their chests.


	9. Black ale.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last exclamation had Balin spraying his mouthful of honey mead in a wide arch.

_Chapter Eight – Black Ale. ___

When Bilbo had calmed down and apologised repeatedly for his behaviour, he made his escape from the Green Dragon. His melancholy had sobered him up completely and though not embarrassed by his actions, he wanted to be away from the pitying glances he was receiving from the patrons of the tavern. He trudged back to Bag End with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and shoulders hunched. At his gate he paused, a hand on the latch staring up at the candle lit windows. It looked cheery and welcoming, but he had to wonder what type of reception he would get upon his return. His anger hadn’t abated, but he had control of his emotions again, his cousins’ support being enough to shore his walls back up again. He sighed, lowering his head and closing his eyes momentarily, one hand working through his curls and messing them up further. A cold wind reminded him night had fallen fully, even if it wasn’t yet late enough for the star constellations to be visible yet. He stared petulantly at his own door, torn between the desire to walk in or simply leave his guests to their own devices. In the end the hobbitish side of his character won out and he softly pushed open the gate to tread softly up his stone stairs. 

The warmth of the smial sunk into his skin before he had even shut the door properly and despite what could be waiting for him, his shoulders relaxed. He leant against the inside of his door listening to the murmurs that were coming from his dining room. He eyed the passage debating if it was worth making a dash to the kitchen, before deciding he needed to eat something before the ale took a hold of his sense again. Acutely aware of the eyes on him Bilbo entered the dining room, once again causing the conversation to stop. He pulled up short and closed his eyes, before groping blindly for the door. A hand on his shoulder stopped him and, resigned he turned to face the dwarf who had stopped him. To his surprise he saw it was the dwarf with the axe embedded in his forehead, he tilted his head in question, getting a tug on his hand and a wide smile in response. Puzzled he allowed himself to be towed back to the table, (he was dimly aware that he probably couldn’t have gone anywhere else with a dwarf pulling him anyway,) and to be pushed softly into a seat. 

“Merag? Stuttered the dwarf, Bilbo looked at him confused he recognised the word from somewhere but the ale had muddled his memory. 

“I’m sorry?” he felt himself slur the words slightly and so made a stronger effort to force the inebriation back, feeling that he was missing something. “I don’t know what you are asking me Master Bifur,” he met the dark stare head on, “Could you get someone to explain to me perhaps?”

To his relief Bifur nodded and backed away, seeing no-one else step forward, Bilbo threw his manners to the winds and started piling a plate high with the food he could reach. He vaguely noticed there was a lot less food than there had been and while part of him was glad, the main part of him just wanted to eat enough to start to soak up the black ale. Without further ado he tore into the pile of food in front of him. 

Dwalin could feel himself staring when Bilbo returned. It had been planned that they would apologise to their host and attempt to make amends, yet when the hobbit had stumbled through the door Dwalin had lost the carefully planned words. The smaller man was decidedly windswept, eyes glazed and curly hair standing up every-which-way. Dwalin looked on throughout Bilbo’s whole interaction with Bifur, he knew his mouth was open but he couldn’t seem to get his brain to function enough to control his reactions. Most of the company was making an effort not to stare as their host dug into nearly double what they had managed to eat (and from what little attention Dwalin could spare them he thought they were doing better at it than him,) and so small conversations had started up around the dining room. Dwalin finally managed to close his mouth only to open it again when it clicked why the hobbit’s eyes had been unfocused and his words slurred. Dwalin immediately cut off that train of thought, the softening of the hobbit’s grasp of Westron had stirred something inside of him that he couldn’t place and Dwalin didn’t have time for riddles. He tried to gain control of himself again, and moderately succeeded on his second try, “Erm Bilbo,” he tried cautiously, unconsciously licking his lips in his nervousness. 

Bilbo snapped his head up to look at Dwalin, and struggled to swallow what he’d been eating, to aid him he downed half of the nearest tankard before staring at it and groaning when he realised it was honey mead. “Yes Master Dwalin?” he gave up on not being slightly drunk that night and took another sip of the mead to clear his throat. “Sorry about displaying the manners of a pig there.” He smiled softly at the dwarf, “What can I help you with?”

“I … It … We…” Dwalin cleared his throat and looked helplessly around the room, no one met his eyes and he could see some of their nervousness returning and knew he had to speak soon. He sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face, “How much did you have to drink?” he froze shutting his eyes as if in pain and resisted slapping himself for the completely inappropriate question. 

Bilbo stared at Dwalin for long moments, and the tension in the room had just started to rise when he began to giggle. Fili and Kili’s heads snapped up and they stared open mouthed at their giggling host. Ignoring everyone else they crept closer to the hobbit looking at him in wonder. Bilbo turned his head to look at them and managed to raise an eyebrow at them despite his giggling.

“Erm Master Baggins…” began Kili cautiously, “Don’t take this the wrong way...” He chewed his lip for a second before stepping closer, entwining his fingers with his older brother’s he took a deep breath, “I think Uncle Dwalin meant just what have you been drinking?”

Dwalin’s eyes shot open and he glared at his nephews, “No I most certainly did not!” he began harshly, “It was inappropriate of me to even think of…Bilbo?” Bilbo had once again fallen off his chair and was lying on the floor, clutching at his ribs as he finally lost his fight with laughter. Dwalin walked around the table to look down at him, “Okay, forget those to questions where can I get some?”

Bilbo flapped a hand at him, “St...t...t…op,” he managed to get out passed his laughter. 

As he struggled to get his laughter under control he looked up into grey eyes and something in them hit him hard enough for him to hiccup into relative calm. He sat up slowly and the surrounding dwarves stilled slightly, the Durin brothers taking two quick steps back. 

“Oh relax boys,” he breathed without looking at them. “So can the rest of you,” he continued not breaking eye contact with Dwalin. The dwarf reached a hand to help him up and Bilbo gripped it tightly allowing the larger male to pull him to his feet. He allowed Dwalin to grasp his other elbow as he swayed slightly at being pulled upright so quickly. He knew the other dwarves were watching them with cautious interest, and so didn’t lean in too much, trying – even in his tipsy state- not to scandalise them, the ease with which he interacted with the muscular dwarf unsettled them enough. 

“You really want to know Master Dwalin?” he tilted his head as he carefully took in the reactions of those nearest, yet his eyes still never left Dwalin’s. He leant in closer and heard Fili and Kili’s twin nervous laughs, Ori’s shocked chuckle and Bofur’s gleeful laugh. He smirked, “You mean you haven’t heard of the Shire’s deadly Black Ale?” he pretended to swoon, pulling his arms out of Dwalin’s grip and collapsing heavily into a conveniently situated his chair. Dwalin took a hurried step forward, Bilbo’s smirk obviously taking a while to sink in. “Oh Master Dwalin I am horrified!” he finally broke the stare off and glanced slowly around the room, “ Oh you poor deprived souls.” He grinned wickedly and suddenly Kili was moving closer again, and so Bilbo grabbed his wrist managing to pull the younger dwarf down so he could whisper in his ear, “Stop being scared of me dammit! I’m a hobbit and you’re nearly a foot taller.” He released him and smiled innocently at the look of shock on the young dwarf’s face.

Mind made up he jumped from his seat, “Master Dwalin?” The large dwarf turned his attention from Kili’s now confused expression and looked worriedly at his host. Bilbo’s grin only deepened. “Give me a hand with the barrel, eh?” With that he tugged the muscular dwarf out of the room leaving a group of shocked dwarves behind them. 

 

“What on …” 

“Deadly Bla...”

“I haven’t…”

“Were is…”

“Why can…”

“Courting?” the last exclamation had Balin spraying his mouthful of honey mead in a wide arch.

“Excuse me?” he coughed, glaring at Fili. “You did not just ask that!” Shock colour his tone, before a thoughtful expression settled on his face and his eyes widened as he stared at his oldest nephew, “Really?” he asked tilting his head a wide smile on his face. “Oh that would be good lad, but” he paused and shook his head, killing the answering smile on Fili’s face, “I doubt it.”

“You doubt what brother?” Dwalin rumble from the doorway, hands holding one end of a large barrel, and a suspicious look on his face. He glared when Balin merely glanced between the hobbit at the other end of the barrel and himself. “Oh stuff it you silly old fool,” he huffed, carefully setting his end of the barrel on the ground and stepping back to allow Bilbo to right it. 

“Stuff what?” asked Bilbo, (he’d heard some of what Balin had said but not all and was slightly interested,) wiping sweat off his forehead he steadied the barrel. “Who’s a silly old fool?” when Dwalin merely looked back in slight embarrassment he shrugged, “Okay then.” He turned his back on the dwarf and scooped up a tankard, checking it was empty, before filling it full, “You might as well finish your drinks before helping yourself to some.” He turned a cocky grin on Dwalin, before taking a swallow, “I warn you though it bites,” he chuckled clacking his white teeth together. 

Dwalin raised his eye brow, he was sure he’d just been challenged in some way, and he was also sure Bilbo had guessed as to what Balin had said. “More than any dwarven ale Bilbo?” he chuckled, returning the grin and trying a challenge of his own. “I doubt that.” He was worried when Bilbo merely shrugged, grin growing wider. He refused to show it and so filled his own empty tankard from the barrel. He eyed the liquid suspiciously, it looked like no ale he had ever tried, although the smell was right. He raised his tankard at his host and took a deep draw, “Sweet Mahal!” he gasped, “That’s…Oh Mahal, Why have I never heard of this before?” He glared at Bilbo, “Your folk are a cruel people.”

Bilbo smirked at the almost annoyed dwarf, settling his hip on the edge of the table, and taking another swallow, he knew only a few more words were needed to get the rest of the company drinking and hopefully alcohol would at least relax them for the night. “Oh I don’t know Master Dwalin,” his teeth gleamed white as he talked and mischief danced in his eyes. He eyed the muscular dwarf and cocked his head again, waving a lazy hand at the watching company, “We don’t share it because we have found no other race can handle it.”

He watched in amusement as Dwalin stiffened and the rest of the company cried out in denial. He shrugged and held Dwalin’s glare, smiling into grey eyes, uncaring if they relaxed, he could always get drunk with Dwalin (the dwarf had taken his challenge personally) and ignore them. “If that’s the case gentlemen, than have at it.”


	10. An Unexpected Party.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reputation of the Shire hung on his own ability to handle his drink, but he had company and there was laughter and music in his smial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will eventually explain what makes the Black Ale of the Shire so special, just not yet, I’m going to have some fun with it first.  
> There will be drunkenness in this chapter, and smoking so if this offends you please don’t be mad at me…well too much.

_Chapter Nine – An Unexpected Party. ___

Dwalin and Bilbo were facing each other across one of the tall side tables that had been dragged in from the sitting room. Bilbo’s hands were braced on the table’s surface and Dwalin’s were gripping the edges of his chair. Ori looked between the two and sighed. His fear of Master Baggins hadn’t lasted until the hobbit had taken Nori’s cat-call with a smile and downed a whole tankard of the mind-bending ale with ease and even bowed slightly at the end. Somehow he was now playing mediator to a drinking competition between Mister Dwalin and Master Baggins, and was very confused how he’d ended up being allowed to do it or why he’d agreed to do it. He glanced around the room taking a sip from his own tankard and watching what everyone else was doing. Gloin and Oin seemed to be playing some sort of betting game, if the carved stones between them were any indication.  


Ori stifled a snicker at Nori and Dori, choking on the inhale from his pipe as he did. His middle brother had been standing on a chair holding both Dori’s and his own tankards out of reach of the oldest Ri brother, when Dori had gotten bored and simply tipped him from the chair catching both full tankards and Nori before they had hit the floor, the chair he’d caught on his foot, inches between its carved back and its extinction.  


Bombur was still more interested in the food than the ale and was sitting at the table between his brother and cousin alternating sips of his ale with bites from different platters of food. Beside him Bofur was leaning back, eyes half closed and playing a merry tune of his hand pipe, Ori blushed when he caught the tune and despite himself glanced worriedly at their host, then sighed in relief to see he was still scowling at Dwalin. Ori looked back at the Ur family and stared confused at Mister Bifur. The toy maker was sitting of the edge of the table gesturing wildly about the excellent food, while eating the flowers that had been in vases on the table and side board when they arrived. Ori shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, that was just, he really had no words which was a worry in itself.  


He determinedly looked elsewhere, catching sight of Fili and Kili through the door into the sitting room. They were lying in front of the fire on what seemed to be a rug (Ori had read about them and was now itching to go and examine it), cuddled in to each other and apparently asleep. Half full tankards were balanced haphazardly on the edge of the hearth. Chuckling Ori looked around to find the last present member of their company and bit his lip. Mister Balin was sitting glaring at the group as he nursed his own tankard and a pipe of sweet smelling leaf, yet Ori could see amusement behind the older dwarf’s eyes. “Dammit Master Baggins!” he all but screamed when a loud bang had him jumping and spilling his ale. He realised the hobbit had just downed another tankard of the ale and the bang had been him slamming the mug back down. Ori looked at Mister Dwalin and caught the almost awed expression on the older dwarf’s face, before determination settled into the grey eyes. He sighed, he was in for a long night. 

Nori was, after his heart-stopping journey to the floor, sitting quietly next to his older brother, and blowing rather wobbly smoke rings. The pipe weed was more fragrant and of much better quality than he was used to, it seemed to swirl in distinctive spiral patterns, bathing the room in a blue haze, through which the candle light danced. His thin lips smiled around the stem of his pipe at that thought, the ale was obviously going to his head and he knew if he opened his mouth he would end up spouting nonsense, or worse still, start singing. He tilted his head, as the high pitched sounds of Mister Bofur’s hand pipe were joined by the miner’s lilting voice. He closed his eyes and listened carefully, and-although he didn’t know it-swaying slightly in time with the music. He put the tankard carefully on the floor and pulled his flute out from its place on his belt. He recognised the music and soon the mellow notes of the wooden flute twined with the existing song. 

Across the dining room Bofur had watched the angular dwarf get caught up in his music and he was surprised and pleased when he was joined in his song. He followed the song through to its conclusion, barely pausing before he changed the tempo of the music and watched in amusement as, despite his noticeably drunken state, Mister Nori followed with ease. Bofur could feel a grin starting on his face and his voice became surer, and he allowed his accent more pronounced for the first time in company. His own eyes slid shut as he continued to play and sing, accompanied by a relative stranger.

Bombur paused in his pursuit of eating and drinking to look around the room, bar the guardsman he had been the first to relax around their host but now everyone seemed mellow. He smiled as he listened to what his cousin was actually saying, before turning an incredulous look on the toy maker. He could not let those thoughts stand, he would be making the older dwarf try some of Master Baggins’ fine cooking rather than just eating the flowers. Determinedly he stood pushing his own plate aside before starting to fill a platter from the selection of food still left in the room.

Bifur hadn’t realised anyone had been paying attention to his verbal drivel over how nice the flowers were until he was taken to task by Bombur. Secretly pleased he allowed his cousin to bully him into trying several of the dishes in front of him. He was happily drunk of the hobbit’s dark, black, herby ale and perfectly content to be fed. He lit his pipe and took a draw, swaying on his table top perch as the fragrant smoke filled his lungs. He tucked into the pile of food Bombur placed in front of him with gusto, pipe in one hand he alternated bites of food, draws on his tankard of ale and lung-fulls of sweet pipe-weed. His eyes twinkled and his lips twitched behind his beard as he looked across at the drinking competition, he was beginning to like their host.

Dori was sitting on the floor, legs outstretched and leaning back on his hands. His eyes were closed and he was relaxed even as he realised he was acting younger than he had in years. He was partly ashamed that he had broken down earlier, but it had gotten him a hug off his middle brother and that was something he had thought would never happen again. He was full and warm, and he suspected the ale had more kick than taste, but he was quite happy to be drinking it among friends. He opened his eyes and idly eyed the Ur family as he heard Nori’s flute join the youngest Ur’s song, he should probably stop them as that song was not fit for singing in a home, but it was too nice to be warm and full, with his brothers safe. He closed his eyes again, lay down and smiled blindly at the ceiling.

Bilbo was enjoying himself thoroughly now. His guests had finally relaxed, Ori seemed unafraid of him and Dwalin had accepted his challenge. The reputation of the Shire hung on his own ability to handle his drink, but he had company and there was laughter and music in his smial. 

Dwalin was amazed at himself. He hadn’t let himself act this young since he was at Erebor, since way before the worm came. Yet he was sitting across from his host, staring into hazel-green eyes and involved in a drinking competition. He knew he was competitive, but he had to impress his host having accepted the challenge given to him, especially after throwing down his own gauntlet. He knew he was close to getting drunk, but despite Bilbo slightly slurring his words earlier and the giggle fit, the hobbit was not showing any signs of slowing down. Dwalin grinned across the table, and felt almost gleeful when he got a wink in response. He knew Ori was keeping tabs on the contest, but his whole focus was on Bilbo. Dwalin flexed his fingers, before curling them around the handle of his tankard. He knew his eyes were sparkling and the smile on his face should worry him, but he was having fun. He watched in admiration as his host downed another tankard, throwing his own wink before copying the action. He leaned back in the chair as Ori refilled the tankards, his unbooted feet crossed under the table. He felt relaxed and at peace again, he could happily repeat this part of the evening over and over, maybe he could get Thorin to rest here a while before they headed to Erebor. His grin softened into a smile, and he fell asleep in the chair.

Ori’s delighted laugh drew the attention of all the company (bar Fili and Kili who were still asleep in front of the sitting room fire). The dwarves stared at a peacefully sleeping Dwalin and a shocked Bilbo. They watched as the hobbit turned his head to get confirmation from Ori as if he couldn’t believe it. At Ori’s head nod he smiled widely, before his gaze landed on Dwalin and his smile softened. Deciding they would get no drama from watching the two, the company turned back to do their own things and Ori slipped away to join his brothers. 

Bilbo waited until the last dwarf’s back was turned before hiccupping slightly. He pushed to his feet carefully and was glad when he found his legs still worked. He must have stopped before the half that would knock his balance and walking ability for six. Checking the room and failing to notice Balin watching he slipped around the table and leant slightly over Dwalin, placing a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder to try and wake him. Grey eyes peered up at him and he took in their un-focus and sighed, before gently helping the dwarf to his feet. He arranged Dwalin’s muscular arm around his shoulders and slipping one of his own arms around Dwalin’s waist led the dwarf out of the kitchen door. He was relieved to find that despite Dwalin’s sleepy state the dwarf was somewhat capable of supporting his own weight and could generally walk-if Bilbo steered him. Unaware of Balin slipping along behind them he led Dwalin back to the guest room he’d given the dwarf on his first night. It took some skill on Bilbo’s part, but he managed to get the door open without Dwalin slipping to the floor. He steered the dwarf to the bad and somehow convinced the larger man to get between the sheets, groaning when he went to pull away and found himself trapped by a large hand gripping his under vest. “Oh come on Master Dwalin, le’go.” He muttered in amusement.

Balin watched the scene from the shadows of the doorway, unsure what to make of what he was seeing. He did smirk when he heard his brother’s deep rumbling voice, “No, warm,” muffled by the pillow and softened by drink. Balin watched as their host tried to untangle himself from the grip, and was just about to step forward to offer his aid when Bilbo stopped twisting, huffed and eyed his brother grumpily. Balin froze torn between wanting to go to his brother’s aid or slip further back into the shadows, and so Bilbo’s next move took him by surprise. He gasped silently as instead of getting annoyed, Bilbo somehow managed to slip out of his under vest, leaving the clothing in Dwalin’s grip and himself bare-chested. Since he had his back to Balin the old dwarf’s night eyes were able to catch sight of three ragged scars running down the hobbit’s back. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he thought what could have caused wounds bad enough to leave those marks, and was nearly caught when Bilbo turned to leave the room. Only years of practice and the fact Bilbo turned back to face Dwalin, allowed him to slip away unnoticed. He slipped back into the dining room, walking aimlessly to sit in the sitting room with his sleeping nephews. 

Bilbo had turned to leave Dwalin to sleep, when he heard the dwarf mutter something. He’d turned back to see the large male curled into a ball, hugging the under vest under his chin and a frown. Bilbo felt himself smile gently and he stepped back to run a soothing hand over the still perfectly braided hair. He sat on the edge of the bed, “Rest master Dwalin,” he whispered, “You do not have to worry here.” Bilbo bit his lips and closed his eyes in pained recognition as the dwarf relaxed under his hand and snuggled closer at the sound of his voice. “Sleep Master Dwalin. I won’t let anything hurt you.” A shout of laugh tore Bilbo’s attention away from the now gently snoring dwarf. He sighed and stood, yet was unable to tear his eyes away from how young Dwalin looked when asleep, “I suppose I should find a shirt and get them all a place to sleep,” he muttered as he finally tore his eyes away.


	11. The Morning After.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could tell you what I have gotten up to under the influence of that ale, but somehow I don’t think I will.

_Chapter Ten – The Morning After. ___

Bilbo slept late the next morning, having gone to bed last. It had taken him a long while to convince the dwarves to sleep in the beds, and in the end he’d actually ended up with guest bedrooms left. Only Balin and Bombur had chosen to sleep alone. Bilbo had somehow (with Balin’s help) carried Fili and Kili into one room when the lads had refused to let go of each other even in sleep. Dori, Ori and Nori had staggered after him into a different room and had fallen onto the covers of the bed in a tangle, snoring as soon as they hit the bed, Bilbo had dug out a large patchwork quilt and covered them after he’d got everyone else settled. Gloin and Oin, along with Balin and finally Bombur had merely needed pointing in the directions of the bedrooms, Balin even breaking from his haze enough to wish Bilbo a goodnight. He’d had to pull Bofur to his feet and with one hand on Bifur’s shoulder to direct and Bofur’s arm around his shoulders, he’d managed to get the last two dwarves into a bed. 

He groaned slightly as he awoke to brilliant sunlight, wincing as he peered around his bedroom. He staggered up right, feeling achy and itchy. Rubbing tired eyes he stumbled along the hall into his bathing room and groaned at pile of dirty clothes piled on the floor. The bath was clean however and so he took advantage of the silence to quickly wash in hot water. As he towelled himself dry Bilbo did rough calculations in his head. He nodded as he realised he would have enough herbs to make a simple hangover cure for the twelve dwarves in his home. He pulled his trousers and linen shirt over his still damp skin and impatiently yanked his curls into a clump at the nape of his neck, tying them with a leather thong. He gathered the wet towels and dirty clothes into a bundle, taking them with him when he left the bathing room. The towels he hung on the line to dry, the clothing went in the large wooden wash tub by the back door. He set his largest kettles on the stove to heat, stoking it until the heat set the water bubbling. When the kettles were singing he emptied them into the tub and added equal parts lemon juice and a washing powder containing lime. Leaving them to soak until the two had stopped reacting, Bilbo pulled the herbs he needed from his cupboards and set about mixing them into a sweet smelling, tea. While the hangover cure was stewing, Bilbo measure oats into the largest pan he owned, adding cream, milk and water to the dry flakes. He hefted it onto the top of the stove with difficulty, wincing at the dull ache in his shoulders off carrying or supporting several heavy (but in his mind not heavy enough) dwarves around his smial. Once it was on the heat he adjusted the heat of the stove, allowing the pan to warm through gently. To the pan he added some chopped fruit, before checking on the tea. 

He chuckled to himself when he realised it was ready, and helping himself to a cup of the spicy, but wonderful smelling mixture he hummed as he ladled it into two mugs. He decided on waking Fili and Kili first, and so with a mug in each hand he padded down the hall way. Hands full he kicked on the door instead of knocking. To his surprise it was opened by a wide awake, if rather rumpled Kili.

The young dwarf smiled up at him and dragged him into the bed room, “Fi! Fi!” he giggled, “It’s Master Boggins.” He smiled sunnily up at Bilbo, who couldn’t find it in himself to correct his name. 

“Here lads,” he chirped sunnily, “I made hangover cure but you don’t seem as if you need it.” He couldn’t help his giggle as Fili groaned, finally sticking his blonde head out from under the pillow. 

“Gimme,” he slurred, making grabby motions towards the mugs. “Make ‘im go way,” and then flapping motions in Kili’s general direction. 

“Now Master Fili,” chuckled Bilbo setting the two mugs down, and sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed. He took in Kili’s pout, “Come here lad,” he motioned to beside him and Kili gingerly came and sat. Bilbo smiled and put an arm around his shoulder, his other fingers running through Fili’s blond hair unconsciously. “Now, if you both drink the tea, I woke you up first so you will have first dibs on the bathing room.” He tightened his grip on Kili’s shoulders and the dark haired dwarf finally relaxed into his side, fingers kneading Bilbo’s ribs like a kitten. 

Fili purred as Bilbo’s fingers running through his hair actually lessoned some of the headache, “Bathing room?” he muttered not wanting to move in-case the fingers stopped. 

“Aye lads, a tub big enough for the two of you, plenty of hot water, soap, oils, towels, and I believe more importantly for you two a lock on the door. “

Fili yanked away from Bilbo in shock, “Rukhs!” he gasped as he landed on the floor hard. 

Bilbo sighed as both of the brothers jerked away from him and sat staring at him with wide horrified eyes, looking like he was going to curse them out. “Oh by the Lady.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “If you are you are. If you aren’t you aren’t. I don’t care either way.” He pushed to his feet. “If you want to use the bathing room I’d get in before I wake anyone else. If you want your clothes cleaning the tub’s by the kitchen door.” He left the room in a huff, and was rewarded by the sound of two sets of feet running down the hall, and the slamming of his bathing room door. 

Humming to himself Bilbo set about waking the rest of his guests, and other than a couple of swear words and cries of thankfulness he had no more drama. He mentioned the bathing room to every dwarf and the wash tub, then left them to argue over who got to go first. 

He paused before the door of Dwalin’s room, full mug in one hand and the other on the door handle. The commotion around Bag End decided him and he stepped into the bedroom. 

Dwalin awoke with a foggy head and a mouth that felt like he’d been eaten cotton. He hoped he hadn’t fallen for that dare again, once was bad enough. It took him several minutes until he connected the symptoms to a mild hangover, and if it wasn’t for the warm chuckle and smell of mint filling the room he would have pulled the pillows back over his head and gone back to sleep. He raised a fist to rub his eyes and then stared at in confusion. 

“Ah that would be my under vest Master Dwalin,” he squinted in the direction of the voice for several minutes before his eyes and mouth decided to work. His brain wasn’t working well enough to feel embarrassment or worry yet and so he pulled himself into a sitting position and peered blurrily at Bilbo.

“What?” he grumbled, before holding the cloth out to inspect it. “So it is.” He looked at Bilbo confused. “You had on yesterday?”

“Aye Master Dwalin,” answered Bilbo, sounding-to Dwalin’s mind-far too amused. 

“Well then…” Dwalin’s brain decided it could feel embarrassment and he really hoped he hadn’t done anything stupid, “Why do I have it? I didn’t I mean? We didn’t? I wasn’t drunk enough to…” he looked at Bilbo who seemed freshly washed, wide awake, and laughing. “Oh Mahal what did I do?”

“Relax Master Dwalin,” sniggered Bilbo finally taking pity on the nearly hyperventilating dwarf, “Your brother followed us to make sure we did nothing untoward. He finds the whole situation darkly amusing, at least I think he does, my head’s still a bit fuzzy about his words and reactions.” He looked up and saw Dwalin staring at him in horror, “No!” he yelped, “sorry, no not like that. You fell asleep in the middle of our drinking competition and I guided you back here. You weren’t drunk, just sleepy so you didn’t embarrass yourself.” He smiled up into grey eyes that were still faintly worried. “I think you decided my top was the blanket though.” 

“Mahal!” groaned Dwalin, burying his head into his hands that still held the vest, he decided he didn’t care that he was effectively burying his face into his host’s clothing as long as he could hide his flaming cheeks from the hobbit. “I thought you said I didn’t do anything embarrassing. I’m…” he paused and decided he would risk it. “I’m sorry.”

Bilbo sighed shortly and rand his hands over the now mused hair. Smiling gently as Dwalin leant into the touch without un-hiding his face. “Nothing to be sorry for, could have been worse,” the humour filled his voice, “Bar trying to get me out of my clothes, you were a perfect gentleman.”

“What?” squawked Dwalin, raising his head to stare in dread at Bilbo.

“Sorry,” Bilbo chuckled, “I couldn’t resist.” He settled more comfortably on the bed, and against Dwalin’s knees. “Seriously, should I tell you what my cousins have done under the influence of that ale?” 

Dwalin nodded cautiously. “Good drink your tea like a good dwarf and I’ll tell you,” waiting until Dwalin started to sip the brew, Bilbo sorted through the stories. “Hmmm now where to start.” He smiled in memory, “Maybe with Saradoc. The first time he drank that ale, we had a couple of local singers at the tavern and the girls were up dancing a jig on the table,” Bilbo smirked at Dwalin, “Saradoc joined them, only he removed a piece of clothing for each new verse. And no, not a single person stopped him.” Dwalin giggled and Bilbo swallowed down a laugh at the sight of such a masculine dwarf giggling, “Where was I? Ah yes. My cousin Primula proposed to my cousin Drogo when she first tried it, of course they are married now.” He grinned, “Sammel and Reith actually started making out in the middle of the town hall during our mid-summer festival. That was also the first time they got anyone else involved in their bed sports.” Bilbo ran a hand over his face and decided against telling Dwalin it was him. He rested one hand on Dwalin’s blanket covered knee and ran the other through his own hair, “Goddess it’s told that even the Gaffer decided that he should start courting his wife after a tankard of the ale.”

Bilbo felt himself flush at Dwalin’s puzzled look, the red spreading as the dwarf sat up and leant in closer to pull the hand out of his hair. “Ah you don’t get why that’s something I felt the need to tell you. Hobbit courting is rather full on. Yes we do the gifts, and romantic walks and cook for each other, but there’s also the physical side of things that…I have no idea why I’m telling you about hobbit courting.” He smiled at the now gaping dwarf, “I could tell you what I have gotten up to under the influence of that ale, but somehow I don’t think I will.” He hopped of the bed, dancing out of reach as Dwalin tried to grab him.

“Come on Bilbo,” wheedled Dwalin, interested now, “Tell me.” 

Bilbo chuckled, “Definitely not Master Dwalin,” he gasped hand to his chest, “Believe me when I say your dwarven mind would not be able to cope.” He allowed his eyes to trail over Dwalin’s chest, “Even if you look the part,” he laughed as he opened the door, “Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes Master Dwalin.” Then made his escape.

The rest of the dwarves at Bag End froze, “Dammit Bilbo!” yelled Dwalin, “What in Mordor do you mean by that?”


	12. Breakfast.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori leant back trying desperately to get out from between the two.

_Chapter Eleven - Breakfast. ___

Despite judicious pleading from Dwalin throughout the morning Bilbo stood firm in his denying the dwarf his own ale stories or an explanation of his comment. He even stood firm when they were joined in the kitchen by an embarrassed Fili and Kili, who quickly joined their uncle in hounding him for answers. He smiled widely at the boys’ humorous attempts at getting him to talk, and managed to distract them with a bowl of porridge and pots of jam just as the rest of the company wandered in. Bilbo counted them, and realised that Balin must have won the argument over who could bath first, although he half suspected the older dwarf had merely waited until the Durin brothers left and slid in while the rest of the company were arguing.

To stop Dwalin gaining yet more allies he quickly fed the dwarves, and soon plates of bacon, sausages, poached eggs and fried mushrooms followed the porridge and jam. He smiled warmly as Dori came to help and instead of trying to explain he didn’t expect help handed the nervously smiling dwarf a large brown tea pot with directions to set it on the table. A nervous Ori was handed two tall china pots full of coffee and warned not to burn his hands. Nori was waved away and Bilbo joined the company around his large kitchen table, dragging the angular dwarf to sit next to him. He deliberately placed Nori between Dwalin and himself, guessing rightly that Dwalin would drop the ale stories around others in case Bilbo brought up his own. Smiling happily he accepted a full plate off a shyly smiling Bifur, digging in with gusto, the black ale tended to make him hungry the morning after. 

Dwalin watched in disgruntled fascination as Bilbo guessed his every move to find out the truth and somehow managed to counteract it. He had to admit the hobbit had a good tactical mind and it was with good humour he accepted a full plate off Dori. He kept his host in vision as he wolfed down the food, Bilbo might have a good tactical mind, but he was underestimating the stubbornness of dwarves. Dwalin moaned around a bite of bacon as the fatty, salt, crispy meat melted on his tongue, and allowed his eyes to flutter shut momentarily. He looked up and found eleven pairs of eyes on him. Bilbo’s were full of humour, but his kin looked shocked.

“What?” he groused around another mouthful of bacon, “The food is good.” Most of the dwarves looked away and he allowed himself to relax slightly, until he realised Bilbo’s eyes were still on him.

Bilbo grinned, eyes sparkling as he watched Dwalin shift on the bench, he held eye contact, “I told you that you looked the part,” he trailed his eyes over Dwalin’s mouth and the dwarf nervously licked his lips. Nori leant back trying desperately to get out from between the two, so Bilbo broke eye contact and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Relax and eat Master Nori.” He smiled around the table, “I’ll just make up a plate for Master Balin, and then leave you all to it as I have some errands to run today.” He swaggered around the table to the empty space at Dwalin’s other side. He leant in close when he was finished loading the plate up, “Sounded the part there as well Master Dwalin,” he whispered in the dwarf’s ear, smiling serenely at the confused and worried look he got.

“Right, that plate is for Master Balin,” he flapped his hands at the loaded platter, “The rest you can all eat. Enjoy.” Still smiling he sauntered out of the kitchen and down the hall into his bedroom. Once there he leant back against the door and allowed himself a few moments to chuckle, before setting about the important business of dressing to deal with his fellow hobbits. He knew he had to make a good impression after his blow out the night before and so chose his clothes with even more care than normal. He shrugged out of the old clothes he was wearing and stood in front of his closet. 

He pulled his under trousers and an under vest on without much deliberation, as it wasn’t like anyone would be seeing them. They were followed by the palest of blue shirt, which he carefully tucked into deep kaki, fine cord trousers. He snapped on a pair of deep green braces, setting the burnished clasps just so. He pulled an exquisitely embroidered waistcoat from the depths of his wardrobe, it was of a thin pale kaki coloured base but so heavily stitched that it moulded to his form. The blues, greens and bronze in the threads danced in an intricate weave, symbols from past and present cultures that had helped shape his people stitched with a loving hand. He shrugged it on, tugging it carefully until it sat perfect. His nimble fingers made short work of the double row of brass buttons as he crossed to the mirror. He groaned at the state of his hair and started to untangle the strands. It took longer than picking an outfit, but soon his amber-honey blonde curls shone in the sunlight and fell to frame his face, the tips of his ears just showing through. He sighed and added the final touch to his ensemble. A pale blue and kaki, patchwork, fitted, walking jacket that he left open to show off his waistcoat. He nodded at the mirror and turned to leave his room, tugging his polite how’do’dee smile onto his face. It didn’t last long as he ran into Dwalin as he left the safety of his bedroom. 

Dwalin had been pacing in the hall outside his host’s bedroom for a couple of minutes when Bilbo left the room in a hurry and literally ran into him. He launched into speech without looking at the hobbit, “Okay please explain anything of what is going on to me Bilbo,” Dwalin wrung his hands and raised his head to regard his host, “Because I am currently…why do you look so different?” he mentally cursed, “Not that different is a bad thing, you look good, not that you didn’t look good before, and please stop me rambling.” He took a desperate breath, and got a waft of the sandalwood and lavender soap his host seemed fond of using. He also took the chance to look at his host fully. He wasn’t mistaken when he said Bilbo looked different, but the new look had him on edge as he couldn’t place his homey, welcoming hobbit with the stiff, polite version currently in front of him. Well he couldn’t until Bilbo rolled his eyes and slouched to lean against the wooden panelling, hands stuck deep into trouser pockets. 

“I don’t know how you expect me to stop you rambling, and I’m not sure I want to stop you rambling Master Dwalin,” he smiled up at the tall dwarf and Dwalin felt himself relax, Bilbo wasn’t done yet though and so he gave his host his full attention. “If you want to get ready you can come with me and let the rest of your kin fight over food and a bath?” 

Dwalin frowned that had sounded like a question, but “I’ll be right back,” he gasped. 

Bilbo watched as Dwalin stumbled along the hall rolling his eyes as the dwarf failed to navigate his door properly and banged his elbow. In what seemed like no time Dwalin was standing beside him again. Bilbo looked him over the dwarf had only replaced half his armour and leather, stuck with a discrete dagger in his belt and one in his boot. Bilbo had to hope his faith wouldn’t be misplaced.

0o0

It was late, the sun just slipping below the horizon when Bilbo and Dwalin returned to Bag End. They had spent a pleasant day, first dealing with Bilbo’s needs at the market and then with Bilbo showing Dwalin around Hobbiton. They had drawn plenty of curious glances, but Dwalin had noticed now he was with a hobbit very few fearful ones. They were giggling like children when they stumbled through the kitchen door of Bag End and dumped the market purchases on the kitchen table.

Bilbo’s ears pricked and he shushed Dwalin and after the dwarf had removed his boots they crept along the passage to peer around the dining room door. Bilbo bit his bottom lip to stop himself laughing out loud, Fili and Kili were dancing on the table while a nervous Ori tried his best to talk them down. Dori was standing by the side board looking torn between laughter and scolding, while Balin was sitting with his head in his hands. The table groaned under the combined weight of the Durin brothers and the food someone (probably Bombur) had cooked. Bilbo saw Nori’s face and gave up his fight with laughter.

His bell like laugh raced around the room and soon Dwalin’s deep rumble followed it. All noise and movement in the dining room stopped and eleven heads swung to stare at the door guiltily. 

“Oh please,” chuckled Bilbo grabbing Dwalin’s hand and pulling him into the room behind him, “Don’t stop on my account, I was quite enjoying the song, and the dancing.” He turned to look at Dwalin over his shoulder and smiled up at the dwarf whose hand he was still holding, “It was quite the show wouldn’t you say Master Dwalin?”

“Aye,” rumbled Dwalin, stepping up behind Bilbo, and daring to place a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. His kin could stare at his actions but Dwalin had decided he liked physical contact, it was calming and helped ground him. He chuckled and wrapped the hand that was captured by Bilbo’s around the hobbit’s waist, pulling him back so he could rest his chin on the bright curls, “But didn’t you tell me blunting the knives was a euphemism in the Shire?” he questioned innocently, watching how Balin choked on his mead and Bofur went bright red. 

Bilbo leant into the heat Dwalin was readily sharing, “Aye it is but it’s not like the lads knew that Master Dwalin, so don’t tease them…” he paused and hummed, seemingly thinking, “At least not too much.” He relaxed further against Dwalin’s chest in relief as the company seemed to pick up exactly where they left off, he would thank Dwalin later for that humorous comment, now though he was torn between getting a hug or eating. 

Dwalin could feel himself shake with mirth at Bilbo’s answer and resisted the urge to bury his nose in the soft curls under his chin. He merely shifted so Bilbo could lean more comfortably against him, and watched as all but his brother returned to what they had been doing previously. Dwalin shut his eyes so he couldn’t see the mirth and question in his older brother’s eyes, he would have to deal with an inquisition later but at the moment he didn’t want to be disturbed. 

Fate doesn’t take our wishes into account though and Dwalin only had a few moments to savour his first initiated hug outside of his family, when a loud thudding on the front door of Bag End brought all jollity to a halt and had Bilbo leaving his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have posted a One shot of Dwalin and Bilbo's day in Hobbiton if you want to read it, it is the first Chapter in It's Worth Fighting For. I will post any extended scenes from Chapters there, also any linked stories I come up with.


	13. Giggles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously you have to have done something, either that or you have a different ale to share that you haven’t told me of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter sorry although I have added a chapter to a new story detailing Bilbo and Dwalin's day in Hobbiton.

_Chapter Twelve - Giggles. ___

 

Bilbo resisted the urge to smack something as he untangled himself from Dwalin’s arms and huffed out of the room to answer the door, he nearly (but not quite) missed Kili falling off the table as the Durin brothers hurried to get back on the floor. Dwalin stood staring stupidly after Bilbo’s retreating form, he had had the strangest of days and yet enjoyed it thoroughly and now he was dragged back into his reality he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there. 

Bilbo straightened his jacket and pulled the front door of Bag End wide opened. He felt his gaze grow chilly as he took in Gandalf standing on the doorstep, beaming widely at him. Something inside Bilbo snapped but outwardly he merely raised a bored eyebrow.

“No thank you!” he simpered, “We don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers or distant relations,” then he simply shut the door in the wizard’s face. He slid the lock home and dusted his hands together, returning to the dining room he could feel a broad grin stretching across his face.

Bilbo turned to a loudly laughing Dwalin and rolled his eyes slightly “Ah Master Dwalin, be a dear and bring up the green bag would you?” he chuckled, “I do believe Master Ori, and Messrs Fili and Kili would enjoy its contents.” He turned his back on the now hysterical Dwalin as the large dwarf left the room and smiled at the rest of his guests. “Oh please don’t look so worried,” he begged, “I will let him in eventually,” he sighed and slid out of his jacket sighing in relief as he sagged once the stiff material was away from his arms, “When I’ve decided what I want to say to him.” He threw the jacket over the back of one of the high backed chairs.

“Actually Master Dori,” he turned to the steel haired dwarf as his nimble fingers started to work down the double row of brass buttons on his waistcoat, “I don’t suppose your people have a way with dealing with unwanted visitors?” Bilbo shrugged out of his waistcoat and flung that over his jacket. “That’s better,” he sighed cricking his neck before turning his attention onto Dori again, “It’s just that Shire hospitality means I have to let him in, apologise for shutting the door in his face, smile nicely and feed and water him, and even after all that I can’t take him to task for being a nosey, annoying, meddling old fart.”

Dwalin walked through the door to see Kili once again land hard on the floor, only this time it served to increase the laughter falling from his own, his brother and Ori’s mouths.

“Oh Gods Master Boggins,” gasped Kili around his laughter even as he was rubbing his arse and still lying on the floor. “Please don’t,” he hiccupped slightly as Fili descended into tears at the innocent look on their host’s face. Dwalin raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Kili kept trying to talk, “Ow my ribs!” Ori was doubled up in his chair and banging a hand on the table top in his mirth, “Sto.o.op it Or...rr.ii,” giggled Kili, “Oh Mahal, I think I bruised my bum bone.” 

Dwalin stared in astonishment as Dori and Balin lost their fight with mirth and joined the three youngest dwarves in hysterics. Bofur was going red from holding back his own laughter, while Bifur was banging his head off the table in exasperation. Bombur, Gloin, Nori and Oin finally looked up from their game and stared in bemusement at the laughing dwarves. This only seemed to make the five worse as Ori joined Kili on the floor and Fili managed to curl up completely in his chair, holding onto the arms with a death grip. 

Dwalin looked desperately around the room and shuffled over to Bilbo, “What did you do to them?” he whispered in the pointed ear, missing the shiver he got in return from his host. “I don’t think I have seen my brother loose it that badly in…well…ever.” When Bilbo turned to look at him in astonishment, Dwalin realised they were nose to nose, yet he found no need to put space between them, instead dropping the green bag on the floor, “Seriously you have to have done something, either that or you have a different ale to share that you haven’t told me of.” His words seemed to be the last straw for Bilbo, and Dwalin could only watch in bemusement as the hobbit gave into laughter himself. The high bell like sounds drifted around the room and soon he could feel his own lips twitching.


	14. Wizard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They followed willingly and despite Nori raising an eyebrow at his quietly giggling brother made no other signs this was beyond the norm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want any one shots of anything you think I have missed in the chapters I will indulge you if you ask for them...as long as they aren't answered further in the story.

_Chapter Thirteen - Wizard. ___

Bilbo did finally let Gandalf in despite his reluctance. The wizard went straight to join the dwarves, ignoring the un-hobbitish rudeness he’d been shown for now. Bilbo knew he’d pay later for it, and so he pottered about in his kitchen, previous good mood gone. He stilled by the sink as an idea formed in his mind, it was a strange one, but it was a way to ensure the company didn’t slip all the way back into mistrusting him. He knew most of the food from earlier was gone and he also knew the wizard would be hungry and there was another dwarf due to arrive. He nodded and left the kitchen, slipping silently along the hall to his dining room. He paused at the door before deciding he really need to get changed if he was to go through with his plan, as nice as the clothes he was wearing were he doubted they would survive what he would undoubtedly put them through. With a sigh he turned away from the door and slipped along to his bedroom. He stripped quickly when he had shut the door, it took him merely minuets to hunt down a pair of old brown corded trousers and a burnt orange shirt. He tucked the shirt in half- heartedly and left the braces off his shoulders. He doubted the trousers would fall down on him, they hadn’t yet.

Once again comfortable he headed back along to the dining room, absent mindedly wondering if he would have to wear undergarments if he travelled with the dwarves, shrugging the random thought off he pushed open the door of the dining room. His eyes found who he was looking for almost immediately and he slunk over to them, completely ignoring the wizard. He smiled warmly as the two dwarves looked at him and was relieved when they smiled back. He put a finger to his lips and drug them out of the room and down to the kitchens, glad they were willing to humour him. He doubted he could have moved them if they didn’t want to go anywhere. They followed willingly and despite Nori raising an eyebrow at his quietly giggling brother made no other signs this was beyond the norm.

Dwalin watched them go and rubbed his chest absent mindedly, before remembering that Bilbo had had no idea of their arrival. He growled low in his chest, startling Bofur who was sitting next to him. Ignoring the rest of the company he pushed to his feet and stalked closer to the oblivious wizard. He glowered at the taller male, watching him cautiously before deciding whatever hobbit customer were, he was not going to allow the wizard to take advantage of them. 

“Gandalf.” He rumbled, drawing all eyes to him. “Is there something you would like to tell us?” he asked neutrally, deciding to give the wizard a chance. At the bored look he got in response Dwalin knew he was close to losing his temper, but took a deep breath and focused on the acceptance of his host and the peace it had allowed him to feel. He stared directly into Gandalf’s eyes “Was there something you forgot to tell Master Baggins?” he questioned neutrally, deliberately using the correct title for his host, “I don’t know, perhaps about the arrival of thirteen complete strangers to his home?”  


Dwalin was surprised he was still able to keep his voice low and neutral, especially as part of him wanted to start throwing things at the smug looking man. He bit back a growl and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as the muttering of the present company started up. He tilted his head and looked carefully at Gandalf, eyes crinkling as he realised the wizard was deliberately not meeting his eyes.  


Deciding to let the company deal with the meddling male, Dwalin turned his back on the wizard and met Bofur’s eye, “ ‘Tis true, you know,” he paused, “Master Baggins didn’t know we were coming. So you can imagine I came as a bit of a shock to him.” Dwalin chuckled at the memory of how unsurprised the hobbit had seemed, but decided against telling the company that, “He had a bit of a panic cooking spree yesterday that’s why there was so much food last night.” He tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen, “I’m now going to make sure he is okay, especially as he grabbed both Ori and Nori and dragged them off.”  


He held up a hand as Dori started to climb to his feet and the steel haired dwarf sat back down looking sheepish. Dwalin sighed but didn’t call him out on it, knowing from experience it took a lot to completely trust strangers. “Why don’t you enjoy whatever’s left of what Mister Bombur cooked as I’m sure our host is cooking again.”  


He rolled his eyes at the gentle smile on Bofur’s face and left the room at a brisk pace. He shut the door behind he was not sure to be pleased or disappointed when no-one decided to yell at the wizard. He leant heavily against the dark wood. Dori’s reaction brought back to him all the mistrust his kind had for other races. He shook himself, breathing heavily, his heart knew Bilbo meant him no harm, it was just going to take a long while for his brain to catch up. Dwalin let his eyes close and deliberately brought up moments he’d spent with Bilbo. He could feel himself relaxing as he went through them all mentally and knew he would have to get the rest of the company to spend some alone time with their host, he rubbed his chest unconsciously again. Dwalin smiled as he remembered how much effort the hobbit had gone through to get him to talk, the anger on his behalf rather than it being directed at him, the tears (but not pity) for the ruined youth of Fili, Kili and Ori, the sheer determination to try and make sure the company-twelve (thirteen his brain supplied, he doesn’t really know you either) strangers-could be comfortable in his house.  


Dwalin sagged further against the wood of the door scowling down at the toes of his socks. He supposed he could give the three in the kitchen some space before he barged in on them, whatever it was they were doing. He pushed off the wood, cracking his neck as he did, before stopping in the middle of the hall momentarily and chewing his lip. He nodded and slipped along the hall to his bedroom.

Bilbo was in his element as he bustled around Ori and Nori where they were working at the kitchen table. Ori had expressed a great deal of joy in learning how to cook some of Bilbo’s dishes and between the young dwarf’s enthusiasm and Nori’s nimble fingers they were learning fast. The older dwarf instructing his younger brother when he couldn’t quite get the hang of it. Bilbo smiled softly as he watched Nori carefully crimping the edges of his apple pie, the detail he had put into his work was fantastic. The top of the pie was decorated with leaves and apples, the pastry shaped with such a gentle touch that Bilbo had actually clapped his hands. The edges that Nori was currently working on were almost perfectly even and Bilbo resisted the urge to tell the dwarf he would easily win first prize at any fair in the Shire simply from the way his pie looked. The poor dwarf had flushed to the roots of his hair and dropped the mug he was holding the last time he had complimented him.

While Nori had found a knack for pie making, from preparing all the ingredients to the finishing flairs, Ori had a deft hand for making a Shire’s delicacy. He had gleefully flung the dough in the air, his eyes alight with joy as the pale material spread out in an almost even circle. Bilbo watched as he caught it deftly, fingers splayed so he didn’t poke holes into the dough. He laid it almost reverently on the floured table top and flashed Bilbo a smile as he reached for the hobbit’s home made tomato paste. Bilbo smiled back and decided to leave them to it. Both dwarves were smart enough to follow instructions and so the only thing he had to worry about really was them making too much. He slipped softly from the kitchen leaving the brother’s nattering and giggling behind him. 

In the hall he nodded to Dori and pointed through the open door of the kitchen, Dori smiled widely at the sight of his two younger siblings enjoying themselves and pulled Bilbo into a hug, “I’m sorry for doubting you.” 

Bilbo hugged him back briefly and stopped himself from swatting the dwarf on the shoulder, “Pfft, nothing to be sorry for.” He then patted the steel haired dwarf on the back and let him sneak into the kitchen. He watched as Dori leant against the wall unnoticed and couldn’t help but smile softly. Shaking his head Bilbo crept down the hall, he stopped after passing the half open door of one of his guest bedrooms and backtracked slowly. 

Bilbo pushed the door open fully and stood staring at Dwalin’s shirtless form for long moments, “Really Master Dwalin?” he questioned with a giggle. The dwarf paused stomach muscles clenched and back halfway off the floor, looking up at Bilbo in shock and embarrassment. “You are far too cute for a bruiser such as yourself Master Dwalin,” smirked Bilbo hopping onto the unmade bed and looking down at Dwalin still on the floor. “I hope you don’t mind my hiding in here a while. It seems …” he paused looking for the right word, “Safer.” He smiled winningly at Dwalin, “I won’t even watch whatever it is you are doing Master Dwalin, I’m going to curl up and sleep.”

 

Dwalin stared open mouthed as his host laid down on the bed he was to sleep in that night. He did however shake his head fondly as the hobbit snuggled down into the pillows, “Of course I don’t mind Bilbo, but just who are you hiding from? Oh and they are call crunches.


	15. Pondering.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori had told him it was called a rug but it was far too comfortable and thick to be one of them, Fili had seen one in a human home once.

_Chapter Fourteen - Pondering. ___

Gandalf was puzzled by the behaviour of the hobbit he had chosen for the adventure. He had cared dearly for Belladonna and so upon seeing Bilbo acting so much like his late father had decided an adventure would be good for him. He hadn’t been expecting Belladonna’s no nonsense attitude to surface so soon though. He was now sat in the dining room of Bag End being eyed up by a very disgruntled Ur family, after having already been taken to task by a too calm Dwalin. He shifted uncomfortably, he was hoping Bilbo would reappear soon as he couldn’t count on the dwarves’ tempers to hold out for very much longer, he also wasn’t counting on the hobbit saving him though, especially after the look in Bilbo’s eyes when he had opened the door a second time. He lit his pipe, relaxing at his first hit of Longfarthing Leaf, and yet keeping his eye on the door through which Bilbo had disappeared after grabbing two of the dwarves. 

Dwalin had finished running through his basic workout and was now curled up beside the bed in which Bilbo had-true to his word-dozed off. Dwalin shifted slightly so he wasn’t sitting on his feet and leant against the soft blankets behind him, wondering just how the company had gotten as lucky as they had in their choice of burglar. He allowed his eyes to close and tilted his head back to rest on the top of the bed, he hoped Bilbo would agree to come with them, although he would admit to being worried about whether the smaller male would be able to cope with what their travelling and the job they had come to hire him to do. Dwalin grit his teeth as an image of the dragon danced behind his closed eyelids, a shiver running down his spine.

As if he could sense Dwalin’s unease Bilbo started to run a gentle hand over the braids at the back of his head. Dwalin sighed relaxing again, the tiny part of him that was screaming that allowing the hobbit to do so was improper was resolutely squashed and he soaked the comfort Bilbo was able to offer even in his sleep. In the back of his mind Dwalin was alarmed at just how quickly he had come to trust the smaller male and he knew if he examined their interactions he would be worried that he was bringing disgrace on his family name, but while at Bag End and around Bilbo he couldn’t bring himself to care. He tilted his head unconsciously when Bilbo’s hand stilled to rest gently against the hair covering his shoulder, revelling in the warmth that soaked quickly through his hair and into the bare skin of his shoulder. He smiled softly and started to hum a melody part remembered from his childhood. 

Balin was bored of watching the Ur family stare at a, apparently unaffected, wizard and if he was honest with himself, and he usually was, he was much more interested as to where the Ri family had disappeared to. He pushed from the table, waving down the gaze of his nephews, smiling gently as he left the room, Balin wandered down the hall searching for the missing members of the company. The sound of laughter caught his attention and he glanced through the kitchen door, the gentle smile spreading into a warm one when he caught sight of Nori and Ori attempting to teach their oldest brother-what Balin assumed was-the delicate art of hobbit cooking. The benches around the kitchen were covered in cooling pies and the table was covered with what appeared to be thin circular pastry topped with different things. Despite just eating Balin’s mouth watered and he clenched his hands so as not to interrupt such a touching family moment. He was old friends with Dori and to see him so relaxed, so happy in the company of his brothers touched something deep in Balin’s chest. He watched them for several moments longer, painting the picture firmly in his memory, he’d have to thank Master Baggins for making it happen. That is if he could ever find his host without some sort of drama taking place.  


Balin had to admit Master Baggins had taken everything they had told him well, any other race (and Balin had a sneaking suspicion many other hobbits) would have turned Dwalin away at the door or had an ulterior motive behind inviting his brother in. So far Master Baggins had been nothing but polite to the company, had gone the extra length to try and make them comfortable, he hadn’t tried to get them to trust him, hadn’t tried to force his own beliefs or behaviour on them. Balin had seen the sheer rage burning in the green-hazel eyes when their host had understood the full extent of why they were so mistrustful of him. He had been one of the ones to flinch back expecting to be raged at for assuming he was the same as those who had treated them such. Instead their host had tried to calm himself, even going as far as trying to reassure them all despite the shock he had just received. Balin’s heart sank as he finally realised just what had been wrong when Master Baggins had returned to his home the night before, they had drove the gentle male to drink and yet instead of being mad at them their host had merely introduced them to the hobbits’ version of pipe weed and a miraculous new ale. Balin had his suspicion about that ale but he wasn’t going to ask, he’d rather just drink it and remain almost blissfully unaware.  


The sound of gentle humming drew Balin from his thoughts and he tilted his head trying to discern which direction it was coming from. The fact that only one of the open doors had a gentle glow coming from it narrowed his choices, the fact that something about the melody was stirring childhood memories meant Balin moved to peer around the edge of the open door. He hadn’t even realised he’d left the kitchen door until he was looking upon the contented form of his brother. Balin bit the inside of his lip as he took in the scene inside the room, perhaps Fili had made a more shrewd guess than he had thought possible. Oh Balin had no doubt that his brother had no idea of how he was acting, but Balin knew that his baby brother had held nearly everyone and everything at arms-length since the death of their little sister and unborn nephew or niece. Balin hadn’t seen Dwalin that relaxed since when they both were children and sat at their mother’s knee listening to her sing the same song his baby brother was currently humming. Balin leant against the door frame feeling a swell of hope and happiness fill his heart. Master Baggins was curled up, on his side facing towards Dwalin. The hobbit had one hand curled under his own head the other tangled in the braids lying on Dwalin’s shoulder. His brother was shirtless leaning back against the bed, curled up like a small child, a gentle smile on his normally hard face. That he was humming and had his eyes closed was just a plus in Balin’s book. 

The white haired dwarf smiled softly, perhaps Master Baggins was the key to regaining their home. Oh not just the mountain, but the sense of peace and self-worth in each of the company. After all in the space of time Master Baggins had known them he’d managed to get Dwalin to drop his guard and the Ri family to act like, well family. 

Fili was curled up on the floor tapestry, (Ori had told him it was called a rug but it was far too comfortable and thick to be one of them, Fili had seen one in a human home once), in front of a gently flickering fire. He was warm and full again and determined to take advantage of the fact. Their host was a strange male, but Fili couldn’t find anything to dislike about him. He ran a hand through the dark strands of his brother’s hair and looked down into his brother’s sleeping face. No he decided, he couldn’t find anything to dislike about Master Boggins, (something bothered him about that name but their host hadn’t corrected Kili so it couldn’t be wrong), in fact Fili was willing to tell anyone that asked that Master Boggins was the nicest, most real person he had met in his entire life –and yes he was including everyone but Kili in that statement. The only thing that worried Fili was how his uncle Thorin would react to the hobbit. Fili knew his uncle tended to judge harshly first and he really didn’t want Master Boggins to be hurt or offended by anything his uncle might choose to say. He doubted Master Boggins was easily offended having dealt with everything rather well, but Thorin was, well Thorin was one of a kind and if it wasn’t for knowing his own family history Fili would think he was that prickly out of sheer spite. He shuffled so he was leaning against the side leg of a nearby chair, his handsome face drawn into a frown as he wondered if he could stop his uncle from alienating Master Boggins so much that the hobbit would refuse to join them. In his heart Fili had no doubt that Master Boggins would do anything in his power to help them take back Erebor. 

Bifur was beyond annoyed. He had finally found somewhere where he had been accepted and not pitied, he’d finally met someone who had tried to interact with him as a person and the wizard had sent them all to his home without so much as a by your leave. Bifur didn’t know or currently care what anyone else in the company though of Master Baggins, because at the moment his whole attention was on trying not to start hitting Master Gandalf with something sharp. In some small corner of his mind, Bifur was aware that Master Baggins could still turn on them all, still boot them out of his home with a derisive laugh and a sneer on his delicate face. He was aware that the whole thing could be an elaborate hoax, a cruel joke but it was a small corner of his mind and his anger was burning all rational thought away. The axe embedded in his skull normally caused his thoughts to be muddled, but he had been honest when he had offered his friendship to the hobbit the night before, and now he was finding out that Master Gandalf had tricked Master Baggins in a rather mean way and Bifur was nothing if not loyal. He growled between his teeth as he glared at Master Gandalf, he wouldn’t start throwing things. Not yet anyway, he needed to find out the wizard’s reasons. 

Bombur was standing staring aghast at Master Gandalf. They hadn’t been invited, their host hadn’t known they were coming at all until Mister Dwalin had shown up. He knew Mister Dwalin had told them that before, but it hadn’t sunk in until Mister Dwalin had confronted Master Gandalf with the fact. Bombur was ashamed of himself. Out of everyone in the company he should have been able to tell that Master Baggins hadn’t expected guests, but he’d merely seen the food and his attention had been caught. He didn’t know enough about Master Baggins to truly trust him yet. Not as a friend anyway, but the hobbit could cook, had excellent manners and seemed to have a nice disposition. Oh yes Bombur was aghast. 

Bofur was sitting fuming between his cousin and his brother, the wizard had made them all look like fools. If Master Baggins hadn’t known they were coming then he obviously had no idea of just what they had all gone through, of how they were normally treated by others. It had to have been a hideous shock to the hobbit when Mister Dori had broken down the night before, the rage in the hobbit’s eyes had given Bofur hope that there might be one person outside his own race who could understand just what they would be willing to do to regain their home. To find out that rage was built on a single day, if not a single moments understanding of their history warmed Bofur’s heart to Master Baggins and hardened it towards the wizard. Master Baggins had been right thought Bofur with a sinking heart, the wizard was a nosey, annoying, meddling old fart, and if he had been right about that then Bofur would have to start to trust Master Baggins to speak the truth. Meaning Bofur had to trust that if Master Baggins found out the exact details of what had happened to any of them, especially those of them who had not been of age when Erebor fell (so everyone bar Balin, Dori, Gloin, Oin and Bifur), then someone was going to pay painfully.


	16. He's Here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Master Balin,” he groaned, “Please just laugh if you want to, the giggling is ridiculously annoying."

_Chapter fifteen – He’s Here. ___

The peace at Bag End was not to last long and just as Bofur pushed from his seat to start screaming at Gandalf there was a loud knock from the direction of the front door. Eight heads turned to look out into the hall expecting their host to potter up to the door and open it with the efficiency he had shown previously. When no hobbit appeared, but the Ri brothers and Balin did, Gandalf pushed to his feet and strode into the hall himself, just as a second knock sounded at the door. 

Dwalin groaned unsubtly as there was a loud pounding from the direction of the hall. He was comfortable and if they didn’t stop he was going to be rather cross with someone…well anybody really. He shuffled down slightly, hearing Bilbo mutter in his sleep on the bed behind him, Dwalin eyed the door across form him and wondered if he could stretch enough to push it closed. He really didn’t want them to wake their host either. The poor man was probably exhausted. Dwalin wasn’t blind nor was he stupid and he had seen just how much work had gone into making them all comfortable, not to mention the late night the previous day and the day before that. He decided he couldn’t reach the door without having to move, settling his head back and closing his eyes once more as Bilbo began carding gentle fingers through his braids. The sense of peace settled back over the room and Dwalin was just beginning to drift into sleep when the hammering occurred again.

“Wasat?” muttered Bilbo groggily from behind him, and Dwalin swore mentally. “Mast’r Dwalin? Ooo sorry,” this time the mutter was accompanied by Bilbo removing his hand and the sound of him stretching, “Is someone at the door?”

Dwalin pushed to his feet, wincing as his knees popped slightly, “I don’t know Bilbo, that is the second knock I think, I wasn’t paying attention, sorry.”

He held his hands up defensively, until Bilbo merely chuckled at him. “Suppose I should go and answer the door then.” 

Dwalin helped the hobbit off the bed and chuckled at his grumbling. “Aye suppose you should.” He bowed with a flourish, “Lead on Bilbo.”

Bilbo paused at the door, his heart lighter with Dwalin’s joking around, “Prat,” he muttered fondly, “I take back what I said the first night, I am beginning to think I am older than you all.” 

Dwalin smirked as he listened to Bilbo give as good as he got, laying a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder and steering him from the room, “Go Bilbo,” he growled, choking on his laughter, “Answer door.” He shifted so he was walking alongside the hobbit, “Don’t worry I will be right by your side.” He smiled innocently when Bilbo snorted looking up at him through dark lashes. 

“Master Dwalin, you are … I can’t find the words Master Dwalin…Don’t worry that is a good thing.” 

Dwalin felt himself smile warmly down at the smaller male, “Not worrying, I suspect should anything be a bad thing with you I would have no doubts.” He stopped short, eyeing his widely smirking brother worriedly as Bilbo reached the front door and opened it.

Dwalin dragged his eyes from his brother as the familiar tones hit his ears, “Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find, I got lost …Twice! I wouldn’t have found it at all if it were not for the mark on the Dwalin!” 

Dwalin watched Bilbo look from the new comer towards him and tilt his head, making strange motions with his hands. 

“Aye Thorin.” He beamed, “You knew I would be here, why are you so surprised by the fact?”

Dwalin was seriously confused when his old friend merely stared at him and Bilbo hid his head in his hands. Balin compounded the confusion when he started to shake with suppressed laughter. Dwalin was relieved when that startled Thorin out of his staring and the dark haired dwarf turned towards Gandalf after shaking his head in disbelief. Dwalin stepped slightly further back so he could watch the rest of the company carefully. He was surprised to see Bofur and Bifur still glowering at the wizard and he had to shake himself to turn his attention back to the conversation taking place in the hall. 

Bilbo looked at the newest arrival carefully, he had to be the crown prince Master Dwalin had mention but the fact he had gotten lost in the Shire of all places didn’t bode well for the rest of the journey the dwarves were going to undertake. The rest of the new arrival’s sentence sunk in and he turned with a questioning eyebrow to Gandalf.

“Mark?” he asked a little bit archly, “There was no mark on the door, I only painted it a week ago!” he stepped towards Gandalf, hoping Dwalin had told no-one of their conversation about said mark, and glared up at the wizard. 

Gandalf shifted uneasily, carefully shutting the door, “There is a mark Bilbo, I put it there myself.” 

Bilbo bit back a smirk and settled for a look he knew was between polite annoyance and confusion, “But Master Gandalf…” he began getting cut off before he had completely finished the sentence.

“Bilbo Baggins,” he began waving his hands impressively and leaving Bilbo un-pulsed, “Allow me to introduce the leader of our company,” he paused and Bilbo straightened his shoulders and cricked his neck while he waited, “Thorin Oakenshield!” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Gandalf’s dramatics before rearranging his face into innocent inquiry and turning towards his newest guest. 

Dwalin watched as their host faced off against Thorin and felt a great urge to run and hide. This was not going to be good. Thorin was smiling thinly as he stood with arms folded in front of Bilbo, and Dwalin was relieved to see their host held his ground, before wincing at Thorin’s words. 

“So…This is the hobbit!” he started to circle and Dwalin swallowed as Bilbo tilted his head polite confusion now on his face, the rest of the company were still relaxed but Dwalin could see the green-hazel eyes darkening to brown as Thorin continued to talk. “Tell me Mister Baggins have you done much fighting?” Dwalin clenched his fists not liking where this was going at all. 

Bilbo merely raised an eyebrow, “Pardon me?” he asked politely, the calm tone of voice making Dwalin start to swear. 

Thorin didn’t seem to catch the hint, “Axe or Sword as weapon of choice?” 

Dwalin held his breath at the wicked gleam in Bilbo’s eyes as the hobbit stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and slouched into a casual pose, “Well I have some skill at conkers,” he sassed and Dwalin bit his lip still offering prayers to Mahal that Thorin would stop soon. He had heard things about their host at the market that morning and Thorin would not be winning any favours. He turned his grey eyes onto Bilbo not above begging if he had to, and sighed in relief when the hobbit merely threw him a wink while Thorin was circling around behind him, and closed his eyes at Bilbo’s next words. “But I fail to see how that is relevant.” 

Bilbo’s smirk had something clicking in Dwalin’s brain and he started to mouth words at their host while shaking his head and holding his hands together in a begging gesture, before freezing as Thorin spoke again. “I thought as much,” rumbled the dwarf, “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” 

Dwalin felt rather than heard the growl in his chest at that comment and it was Bilbo’s surprisingly harsh grip on his wrists that stopped him screaming at Thorin for the insult. He looked down into green-hazel eyes expecting to see anger or hurt, instead they seemed to sparkle with mirth and to Dwalin’s confusion, relief. He was still clenching his hands, the muscles in his wrists twisting in Bilbo’s grip, but the hobbit didn’t let go and Dwalin allowed himself to be backed into the wall. He closed his eyes and lowered his head so he didn’t have to look into Bilbo’s eyes longer. He was mentally kicking himself for still expecting the hobbit to react in an expected manner, when the grip on his wrists gentled and warm fingers were rubbing the feeling back into his clenched hands. He gradually sagged against the wooden panelling behind him as the fingers continued with their magic.

“You know Master Dwalin,” the voice was soft and filled with both amusement and awe, “I don’t think I have had anyone willing to stand up for me in a long while.” Dwalin opened his eyes and looked directly at Bilbo, before pulling the hobbit into a warm hug. 

He buried his nose into the soft curls as warm hands settled on his shoulder and lower back. It took several minutes but something finally filtered into Dwalin’s brain, “Bilbo?” he questioned getting a hummed question in response, “I forgot to put my shirt on didn’t I?” He felt the smaller male nod against his chest and closed his eyes with a groan, “Dammit,” he muttered, glad his face was hidden as he knew he must be blushing, “I’ll go put a shirt on when I’m less embarrassed then.” He felt warm breath against his throat and instead of stiffening and pulling away, relaxed further into Bilbo’s arms muttering “Stop laughing at me Bilbo.”

Thorin stood frozen at the response from his oldest friend. He was still half expecting the company either to laugh or shrink away from him as if he had brought the judgement of Mahal down on their heads. He was not expecting Dwalin to be physically restrained by the very person he was taunting or the sad looks he was currently receiving from his nephews. He turned to Gandalf for an explanation deciding if the hobbit could hold Dwalin then he was safe with turning his back. He’d turned up at Bag End with crushed hopes and little expectations to be met with the sight of a rumpled host and a shirt-less, boot-less , armour-less and weapon-less Dwalin. The company had seemed relaxed and their host merely confused as to why they were all there. Now he was being glowered at by his oldest friend (who still didn’t seem to realise he was shirtless), given the puppy dog eyes by his nephews, pouted at by Ori, and Nori, and receiving the disappointed grandfatherly look from Dori and Balin. The Ur family were still snarling at Gandalf, although Thorin would have sworn Bifur had cursed at him for the grocer comment before turning back to the wizard. Thorin was now confused beyond belief and was beginning to get a headache. He sighed softly when no answer was forthcoming from Gandalf.

Bilbo had been torn between anger and amusement at Thorin’s posturing until Dwalin’s growl had broken through his haze. He’d brushed off the newest arrival and headed straight to his oldest guest. He was still amazed that Dwalin let himself be pushed around and when the tall dwarf had enveloped him in a hug he had gone willingly, his hands still rubbing soothing circles on the tattooed skin of the dwarf’s back. He hadn’t been able to help the laugh that had escaped him when Dwalin had finally realised he was shirtless and had snuggled further into the dwarf’s warmth when Dwalin had merely shrugged about said fact. Now though the quiet of the rest of his guests, the soft chuckles still occasionally breaking free of Balin and the despondent sigh of Thorin had him twisting in Dwalin’s grasp so he could look at them all. 

“Master Balin,” he groaned, “Please just laugh if you want to, the giggling is ridiculously annoying. Oh and please make up your mind if you want to be amused at your brother or annoyed at Master Oakenshield.” He smirked into Dwalin’s chest when the white haired dwarf blushed. 

“Master Bofur, Master Bifur please stop looking at Master Gandalf like he just killed your puppy, Master Bombur make them stop, or make them tell him what’s wrong.” He could feel Dwalin’s chest beginning to shake as the tall dwarf tried to stop his own laughter and stopped rubbing circles onto his back, tilting his head so he was looking up into amused grey eyes, he smirked wickedly, “Behave,” he whispered, getting a rumble in the broad chest in return. 

Forcing his face to behave Bilbo turned to the rest of the company. “Boys,” he chastised Fili, Kili, Nori and Ori, “You are of age stop that. I much prefer it when you are smiling.” 

Bilbo sighed shaking his head. “Master Dori,” he smiled at the steel haired dwarf when he was given his attention, “Thank you but there is no need I still mean every word I said.” 

Bilbo sighed and pushed out of Dwalin’s hold, “Geroff,” he muttered when the tattooed dwarf refused to let him go. He turned his own version of puppy dog eyes onto the taller male, “Please let me go Master Dwalin,” he whispered quietly enough that no-one else would hear, “If you still want to give me a hug later it will be most welcome.” He smiled as Dwalin blushed heartily, raising his voice so the rest of the company could hear him again, “You look even more the part right now.” Dwalin released his bear hug slightly in shock and Bilbo took the chance to duck away.

“Come Master Oakenshield.” He stated simply, “Master Ori and Master Nori have been busy baking all afternoon and I am sure you are hungry and probably tired after your long journey.” He steered the unresisting dwarf into the dining room as he spoke, remembering his first meeting with Dwalin as he did so. “Now you just sit there Master Oakenshield,” he patted the muscled arm gently, huffing slightly at Dwalin’s pout as the tattooed dwarf figured out what he’d said and realised he had to make good his escape before Dwalin figured out he’d never actually explained anything earlier that day. “I’m going to check on Messrs Nori and Ori. Master Dori would you help me make some tea please?” he smiled winningly, “You have a better knack than I do.”

Dwalin watched Bilbo bustle about, but it wasn’t until Balin and he were left alone in the hall way that he realised he’d been out manoeuvred again. With this realisation came the thought that he’d never actually gotten any answers that morning. A hand on his elbow stopped him following Bilbo, and he turned to look at Balin.

“We need to talk Dwalin,” rumbled the white haired dwarf raising an interrogating eyebrow and gesturing at his lack of dress. Dwalin forced himself not to gulp. He really should have seen this coming.


	17. Talking.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo chuckled, “Shire secret, anyway the one you are eating is called a Hawaiian.”

,i>Chapter Sixteen - Talking. __

Pushing his nerves to one side Dwalin smiled pleasantly at his older brother, “Of course Balin, but not perhaps here?” He questioned gently grasping the older dwarf’s elbow and steering them down the hall back to his room. He shook his head for once again thinking of it as his room, before stepping in behind his brother and closing the door behind them. “Sit where-ever Balin,” he muttered flapping his hands dismissively as he fought down the urge to run and hide behind Bilbo, he knew that would only give his brother more ammunition for this conversation. He also knew he probably shouldn’t have put this off for as long, and if he tried to do so again then Balin would merely bring it up in front of others and he didn’t want anyone-least of all their host- to hear it. He rolled his neck, attempting to appear calm and yet all the while the smirk on Balin’s face told him his older brother was reading most of his thoughts like a book.

To distract himself and to stop himself opening up to Balin’s trick of sitting silently and just looking at him, Dwalin began searching for his shirt. He cursed himself for not being more organised when he realised it was actually on the bed, beside Balin, and that it looked rather rumpled from where Bilbo had taken his impromptu nap on it. He flushed deeply at the snigger it drew from Balin, who he noticed was still waiting for some sort of confession from him. Dwalin huffed as he pulled the coarse shirt over his head, deliberately not meeting his brother’s eyes, he had done nothing wrong and yet he still felt like a remanded child. So, determined not to be the first to give, he made himself comfortable in the armchair by the window and set to work carefully checking his blades. He somehow managed to hide his smirk at Balin’s warning growl and merely raised a questioning eyebrow back at his brother, two could play at that game. 

“Fine Brother!” snarled Balin, and although Dwalin could see he was secretly pleased he mentally winced at what was to come. Especially when a mischievous gleam appeared in the grey eyes so similar to his own, “You want to do this the hard way Dwalin?” Dwalin drew his shoulders back, he had faced down an army of orcs, and his brother was certainly not going to beat him into submission.

“You wanted to talk brother,” he smirked now deliberately holding the older’s gaze, “So talk.” He forced himself not to wince at the unholy glee that spread over Balin’s face. 

“Very well Dwalin,” rumbled the white haired dwarf, “I’ll talk.” Dwalin merely hummed and picked up a coarse grinding stone to work on one of his throwing axes. “Master Baggins seems a nice enough chap, but he certainly isn’t what we need for this quest!”

Dwalin ignored the deliberate taunting and merely raised his other eyebrow, as if to suggest he wasn’t sure why they needed to talk about this. His heart was in his throat though.

“Oh please brother, don’t think me a fool. You mightn’t see it and he mightn’t see it, but IT is there. Even Fili has seen it.” Balin's voice was as gleeful as he had heard it in a long time.

Now Dwalin had to admit he was stumped as to what his brother was going on about, just as he made up his mind to ask, Balin started to talk again. “Disregarding all of that and disregarding I really want to know by what part out host keeps wittering on about you looking, I want to know your true opinion of the lad. You spoke impassionedly out there last night Dwalin. Hell brother, you even nearly attacked Thorin because he spoke as he normally does.”

Dwalin stilled like a rabbit hearing an eagle, realising even as he did it was a bad idea, Balin’s smirk was so faint that he shouldn’t have caught it, but it still sent shivers down his spine. Balin’s eyes never left his form as his older brother continued. “Still not talking? Fine! You are more relaxed than I have ever seen you brother. Shall I go in chronological order? Hmmm?” Balin paused now glowering at him from under bushy brows, Dwalin couldn’t resist the nervous swallow at that, this time the smirk was more obvious. “One, you call him Bilbo, not Master Baggins, Mister Baggins, Master Bilbo or Mister Bilbo or any combination thereof. Two, you braided your hair in front of him, whilst wearing nothing but under trousers and a shirt, no weapons, no armour, zilch. Three, you initiate physical contact with him…Dwalin! You don’t even initiate physical contact with family any more. Four, you joke with him and he can make you laugh…you heard how the younger generation see you lad. Five, you got into a drinking completion with him…last time you did that with anybody you were barely into your fifth decade. Six, you went off alone with him again with no armour and very few weapons, alone brother. Seven, you came out of your room with him tonight and... you were not wearing a shirt!” 

Dwalin had his head on the back of the chair with his eyes closed by this point, he was trying to figure out where Balin was heading with this conversation, but he couldn’t decide if his older brother was leading to a protective talk, a what the hell were you thinking talk, an I want your opinion talk or just taking the micky out of him. “Balin,” he groaned massaging his temples, “Please get to the point of this conversation, Bilbo promised there would be food and I like his cooking.” 

To his enormous relief Balin actually did get to the point, “While I would love to hear how you would try and talk your way out of letting someone get that close to you brother, I really need to know just why you have accepted Master Baggins as a member of our company, before he even knows of why we are here.”

Dwalin raised his head and looked suspiciously at his brother, while mentally going over points in his head. His answer surprised even himself though, “Mainly because he is different Bal.” Deep in thought he hadn’t realised he was calling his brother by a nickname he hadn’t used in decades. “I’m not sure how to explain it but I will try. He has a kind heart, but I have seen similar shadows that hide in his eyes every time I look in the mirror.” Dwalin looked his older brother right in the eye, “He has a kind heart and is truthful in what he says, yet behind that he has qualities of a dwarf. He has a steel will Bal, I know it doesn’t seem like it bit I give you MY word that if Bilbo agrees to accompany us, he will do so until the end, no matter what any of us say to him, or how badly Thorin tries to treat him. Bal he not only didn’t pity me for the losses at Azanulbizar, but he understood them and he grieved for our losses. He is different Bal just trust me on this.” Dwalin stopped feeling strangely drained and looked anywhere but at his brother, or at least he did until Balin stood. 

“Okay Dwalin, if you really believe that then I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, we’d really better get back before our illustrious leader puts us on a back foot with getting Master Baggins to join the company though.”

Dwalin couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh but he already has done, twice if I’m not mistaken, I do believe Bilbo is immune to being mistrusted by dwarves though brother. He merely laughed at him.”

 

0o0

 

When they returned to the rest of the company they found them in the dining room once more. Dwalin seriously thought that if he didn’t leave soon then no one would convince him to go, as once again the large table was filled with delicious smelling food. He smiled widely and pulled out a seat to sit beside a rather bored looking Bilbo. He nudged the hobbit with his elbow drawing the smaller male’s attention to himself. At Bilbo’s slight pout when he turned to him, Dwalin raised a questioning eyebrow. Bilbo’s answer had him blushing, “Oh it’s just that you put a shirt on.” 

He hid his head in his hands as his brother looked pointedly at him, “Bilbo,” he groaned, “Please stop laughing at me.”

A huff at his side brought his head up so he could see Bilbo’s face, “I wasn’t laughing at you Master Dwalin, and I was being deadly serious. You do look the part so much better without the shirt.” Dwalin felt his brain stall as Bilbo brought it up again, opening his mouth determined to get answers he was cut off by Bilbo placing a full plate in front of him. 

“Now this is something you really have to try Master Dwalin,” Bilbo smirked when the dwarf’s mouth snapped shut again. “It is a speciality of the Shire and so far has been a great hit among your fellows.” He leant over and cut the dish into slices. “It really isn’t that complicated, but the flavours are divine,” he smirked again, “I can say that because I didn’t make this one.” He watched giving Dwalin his full attention as the dwarf tried a slice. 

“By Mahal Bilbo,” gasped Dwalin, swallowing the mouthful down, “This is spectacular. What is in it? What is it called?”

Bilbo smiled as without waiting for an answer Dwalin dug back in, “Well it can be topped with almost anything you want. It is mainly a dough base, topped with a tomato and herb paste and lashings of cheese. We call it a pizza in the Shire, the one you are eating now, the one with that topping I mean…” 

He was interrupted by Dwalin who was talking around a mouthful of pizza, “What is the yellow bitter-sweet stuff?”

Bilbo chuckled, “Shire secret, anyway the one you are eating is called a Hawaiian.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by Thorin banging his tankard onto the table top, “Enough gossiping,” growled the dark haired dwarf, “We need to get down to business.”

“Oh good,” smirked Bilbo, causing Dwalin to nearly choke on his twelfth slice of pizza, “I finally get to find out why I have a house full of dwarves.”

Thorin turned with a confused expression to the hobbit who was currently their host and their doubtful burglar. Instead of answering the dwarf’s unasked question Bilbo merely patted Dwalin on the back until he’d stopped choking, he kept his eyes on the large dwarf’s face making sure he was alright. He was worried as he didn’t know what had happened to cause that reaction in his earliest guest and so was content to ignore everyone else until he was certain Dwalin was okay. He also didn’t want the rest of the dwarves to think he had caused something foul to happen to the warrior or whatever Dwalin was supposed to be. He breathed a sigh of relief when Dwalin finally stopped coughing and handed him the glass of water Dori passed to him. 

“Take small sips Master Dwalin,” he sighed, “I don’t want you choking on me.” 

Bilbo glanced up and met Thorin’s eyes. “Perhaps you could explain what is going on Master Oakenshield,” he questioned, while still rubbing soothing circles on Dwalin’s back. “I do really want to know why I have a houseful of dwarves, why your wizard vandalised my property in the first place,” he frowned as Thorin merely sneered at him. “Oh yes and you can also explain why you are determined to get me to dislike you,” he finished blandly. 

Dwalin finally got himself under control and sat sipping his water, listening appreciatively to Bilbo take both Thorin and Gandalf to task-politely mind you- in one breath. He leant back against the smaller male’s chest and huffed when the hobbit stopped rubbing the soothing circles on his back, before relaxing as they started to rub them on his shoulders instead. He closed his eyes, missing both Balin’s look of wry humour and Thorin’s thunderstruck disbelief. Despite not knowing how he would react if Thorin and Bilbo started to argue Dwalin was anxious to hear just what his crown prince would come up with in answer to Bilbo’s questions. He realised he’d already explained what the mark on the door meant and the basics of why they were there, but the way Bilbo had asked his questions meant that any answer would cover what he hadn’t been able to tell their host, either from not knowing himself or being unable to talk about it outside of the company. 

“Bilbo, perhaps we could have a little light,” Gandalf's voice was laced with a small amount of power.

Dwalin growled silently as the wizard broke into his thoughts, he wasn’t sure what the old man gained from all of this, but he quite liked Bilbo’s description of the human male. When the pressure on his shoulders didn’t lesson any and all the wizard got in reply was a snort Dwalin thought he better open his eyes. He couldn’t help raising his eyebrow at the expression on Thorin’s face, really he huffed you’d think the man had never seen Dwalin relax before.

“Thorin,” he grumbled, “Please answer Bilbo’s questions…politely if possible.” He sniffed as Thorin merely looked at him, “Just answer the damn questions, he already knows what the mark means, and he knows why most of this lot struggle to trust him.” Dwalin knew his voice was becoming deeper as he worked himself up further, “I mean really, what were you thinking Thorin? You came in here not knowing anything about the situation and proceeded to insult and belittle our host. So if you don’t want to answer Bilbo’s questions answer mine. Why are you behaving like such a … ouch dammit Bilbo!” he turned his head to glower up at the hobbit who had just squeezed the pressure point on his collar bone. He knew he was pouting slightly, but just couldn’t help himself, “What did you do that for?” 

Bilbo sighed at Dwalin’s kicked puppy expression and moved so he was looking into the sad grey eyes. “I’m sorry I had to do that Master Dwalin, I really am, I couldn’t think of any other way to get you to stop.” Dwalin felt a bit guilty at the upset shown in Bilbo’s eyes but couldn’t help feeling slightly betrayed. He’d stood up for the hobbit against his oldest friend and future king and all he’d gotten in return was a reprimand. Before he could voice that thought Bilbo was nodding, “I understand if I’ve gone down in your esteem for that Master Dwalin, but you were about to insult someone I understand to be one of your oldest friends, as well as someone who you told me was crown prince and if I understand my history an heir to the line of Durin.” 

Dwalin grabbed Bilbo’s hand as the hobbit went to withdraw, “I’m sorry Bilbo,” he definitely felt like an ass now. “I didn’t see it that way, I guess I should be getting used to you not reacting as I expect.” Dwalin didn’t realise he still had a hold of Bilbo’s hand as he pushed to his feet and pulled the smaller male into an encompassing hug. He wrapped his free hand around the slender shoulder, squashing their hands between them. Dwalin buried his face into Bilbo’s curls again, focusing solely on trying to apologise and ignoring the indulgent looks his actions were getting from most of the company. “I really am sorry Bilbo,” he whispered. 

He felt himself relax as a slender arm wrapped around his waist and long fingers started rubbing circles onto his lower back, “Apology accepter Master Dwalin,” was whispered into his shoulder and Dwalin nearly missed the words, “As long as you accept mine.”

Balin rolled his eyes when their host and his brother seemed disinclined to end the hug anytime soon. Really, he thought, Fili must have some rather good instincts when it comes to these things. He bit back a chuckle at the gobsmacked expression on Thorin’s face, and the combination of indulgent and shocked expressions on the faces of most of the company. Deciding to leave them to it Balin turned to Thorin so he could talk quietly to the younger dwarf. 

“Lad,” he hissed catching Thorin’s attention, “While my brother could have phrased that better he has a point. You kind of messed up a bit back there.” He held up a hand to forestall Thorin’s protests, “No, you really did. But Master Baggins has seemed to forgive you this time so answer the laddie’s questions and we can finally get some plans together.” He saw anger been replaced by reluctant acceptance in Thorin’s eyes and so turned away from the prince.

Balin felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead when he realised their host must have heard most of his one-sided conversation with Thorin. Bilbo was watching him carefully, but it wasn’t until the hobbit nodded decisively that Balin felt himself relax. He watched Bilbo steer Dwalin back into a seat and flop down next to him. 

Bilbo sighed and looked around the room, “Right,” he breathed, “Now we are all somewhat calmer perhaps we can start this again.” He wrapped his fingers around Dwalin’s slightly shaking hands, the squeeze he got in return calming his nerves further. Bilbo locked eyes with Thorin. “Master Oakenshield, you will forgive me for being presumptuous here, but I know a little of your people’s history and I want to confirm something. You are heir to the throne of Erebor yes?” At Thorin’s nod he merely allowed his eyes to close for a few moments, “Right, and who in the company is your family?” 

Bilbo’s eyebrows rose steadily as he became aware that everyone bar the Ur family were related in some way. He eyed Fili and Kili, he still thought they were much too young to be going on this sort of journey, but he also understood that the journey itself would probably be nothing new to them, just the bloody great fire-breathing worm at the end.

“Okay then,” Bilbo turned with a frown to Dwalin and released his hand as if burnt, he narrowed his eyes, “You may have left that bit out!” he hissed before turning his attention back to Thorin and so missing the flinch of pain from the dwarf sitting next to him. 

“Master Oakenshield, I will ask again, why do I have a houseful of dwarves?” he narrowed his eyes as Gandalf went to speak, “No Master Gandalf, I believe I asked Master Oakenshield.” Bilbo leant his elbows on the table, still keeping eye contact with Thorin, and pushing down the hurt that he’d felt when he realised Dwalin was also royalty.

“Perhaps I should explain that a bit better. If you are heir to the throne and most of the dwarves currently in my dining room are related to the throne in some familiar bond, then just why are you coming to involve a hobbit who has no royal lineage, no weapons training, no political connections, no experience in traveling in the wild?” He paused for a breath and watched as Thorin’s expression shifted from distain to surprise at his confessions, Bilbo ploughed on though determined to get his point across. “Why then have you come to me, instead of the rest of your kin?” 

The silence in the room was dreadful and Thorin knew he had to give some answer. He pushed his being unable to understand just what was between Dwalin and Bilbo to one side and met the hobbit’s gaze head on. 

“I make no apologies for my behaviour earlier Master Baggins, although I am sorry I called you names, I knew nothing of you and I still don’t. I will admit that you are not making it easy for me to change my first impression of you. To answer your last question first I am not trying to make you dislike me I am merely trying to figure out if you will be any help to us on this quest, and so far I have to admit I really don’t think you will be.” Thorin couldn’t help but flinch at the glare he received from Dwalin at that point, but decided to ignore his old friend for now. 

“I didn’t ask the Gandalf to vandalise your property in fact up until you called him on it I thought you had agreed to come and put the mark there yourself. You are probably best off asking him why he felt the need to do that.” Thorin smirked feeling like he had scored a small victory. That feeling lasted until Bilbo merely kept staring at him non-pulsed. He felt his shoulders sag slightly he really didn’t want to answer the last question. 

He gestured with a hand around the gathered dwarves. “Those you see here are the only ones who answered my call Master Baggins, the rest of my kin consider it a fool’s errand.” He sighed lowering his head unable to meet the eyes of his gathered brethren, “I asked Gandalf to find me a fourteenth member of my company, a burglar so we had a choice to go by stealth if I couldn’t convince my brethren of the Iron Hills to aid us. As you can guess Dain wouldn’t lend his aid.”

Bilbo has shut his eyes the more Thorin talked. How people could turn their backs on their own kin was beyond him. While he was annoyed at Dwalin for hiding the fact he was royalty from him, he also knew Dwalin was the only one who had been entirely honest with him about everything else. He turned his tired gaze on the dwarf by his side, surprised to find grey eyes already watching him. “Master Dwalin?” he hoped the dwarf understood what he was asking because he couldn’t verbalise it. 

Dwalin felt a sting of pain as Bilbo turned from him at the admission he was not only Thorin’s cousin, but his older (now deceased brother) was father of Fili and Kili and married to Thorin’s sister. He had kept his eyes on Bilbo (bar when Thorin had insulted him again) for the entirety of the conversation, it was starting to dawn on him that Bilbo had been just as hurt by his not mentioning the link as he was by Bilbo’s turning away, when the hobbit turned back to look at him. The question didn’t even need to be asked, Dwalin was already trying to figure out a way to explain fully what was going on, having just touched on it his first night there. 

“Erm you remember what I told you the mark on the door meant right?” At Bilbo’s nod he cleared his throat and ducked his head slightly so he could keep eye contact. “Well what Thorin is trying to not tell you is we are all that answered his call to reclaim our home.” Dwalin winced as tired green-hazel eyes widened in understanding, “Aye well you recall what you know of the worm?” 

Dwalin was cursing mentally as he watched the slender frame stiffen in disbelief, “You want me to go against a dragon?” hissed Bilbo. 

Dwalin tried to reassure him, “Well it hasn’t been seen for nigh on sixty years and Oin has read the portents, birds are returning to the mountain and sixty years Bilbo.” Dwalin gulped as Bilbo’s face got steadily darker as he rambled, “You can stop me rambling any time you kn…” he cut off as Bilbo pushed to his feet and stalked around the table to Gandalf. 

The sharp poke the hobbit dealt to the wizard’s shoulder clued the rest of the company in that Bilbo was definitely not impressed.

Dwalin was on his feet and wrapping his arms around a shaking Bilbo before he realised just what he was doing. He glowered at the human male understanding Bilbo’s dislike of being named as a law breaker when he clearly wasn’t. The hobbit in his arms was still shaking so he started rubbing soothing circles on the smaller male’s back. Slowly Bilbo relaxed against him, until his forehead was resting on Dwalin’s chest. 

Dwalin switched his glower to Thorin and jerked his head sharply at the crown prince's snapped“Give him the contract!” 

He ignored Thorin’s temper to turn to Bilbo, “Are you okay?” he knew his voice was stupidly gentle and so could only shrug apologetically at the strange look he got off Bilbo.

“Aye I’m fine now Master Dwalin,” the wry chuckle reassured him more than the hobbit’s words, at least until Bilbo spoke again, “Tables have turned somewhat.” Dwalin merely rolled his eyes and patted Bilbo’s shoulder, “Point me in the direction of this contract so I can look it over.” A wide grin on his face Dwalin pointed at a pale Balin. The grin got larger as Balin shoved the parchment into Bilbo’s chest and ducked to hide behind Dori. 

0o0 

 

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the white haired dwarf’s nervousness, although he supposed he couldn’t blame him given history and his own recent screaming at Gandalf. 

“Relax Master Balin, I won’t scream at you.” He turned to glower at the wizard, “Master Gandalf is another matter however. Master Oakenshield,” Bilbo switched his attention to what he supposed would be the company leader, “I assume you will be staying the night.” 

When he received a reluctant nod he gestured at Fili and Kili, “I assume your nephews will give you a guided tour of the place, find you a spare bedroom, show you the bathing room and so on while I sit down and read this book you have presented me as a contract.” 

He grinned wryly, “It might take me some time, as I want to be sure I know exactly what I am signing up for.” 

Bilbo decided revenge was sweet as he watched an over excited pair of nephews converge on their uncle.

He paused on the way out of the dining room, “Master Dwalin?” he called over his shoulder, suppressing a wince as he saw the bright smile the dwarf had been fading dim. “I was just wondering if you would like to come with me and answer any questions I might have.”

The smile came back full force and Bilbo found himself forgiving the dwarf for forgetting to mention he was royalty. “Thank you Master Dwalin, I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything though.” 

Dwalin clapped a warm hand on his shoulder and Bilbo had to turn his head to hide his slight blush. Rolling his eyes at his own strangeness Bilbo led them from the dining room and into his study, deliberately leaving the door of said room open slightly. Dwalin might not have seen the looks from Balin, but Bilbo most definitely had and he didn’t want to damage Dwalin’s reputation. 

His eyes widened as he reached the paragraph about funeral arrangements. “Incineration?” he questioned raising an eyebrow and smirking at Dwalin’s sheepish expression.

He changed his mind, he didn’t want to damage Dwalin’s reputation too much, “I thought you said the dragon hadn’t been seen for sixty years,” he stated calmly. 

Dwalin was beginning to wish he had managed to keep up the stern-guardsman-without-room-for-joking persona around Bilbo, he was getting a headache from his own changing emotions. He’d had more highs and lows in the last few days than he’d felt for years, then again he’d also had more fun and more peace in the last few days than in the last seven decades. He stopped examining the books lining the walls of Bilbo’s study as the hobbit’s higher pitched voice reached his ears. Ah so Balin had seen fit to write the poor lad the full contract. He turned and looked sheepishly at Bilbo, scratching his head at the calm enquiry. 

“Erm well, you see,” he bit his lip and glanced nervously around the room. 

His head shot back to Bilbo though when the hobbit pushed to his feet with a sigh, “Shut the door and come over here Master Dwalin.” He did as was asked, although he approached where Bilbo was standing rather nervously.

“Oh relax!” 

The snapped response saw him doing just that and Dwalin bit his lip again as he realised just how much trust he was putting in Bilbo. His eyes widened as he took in the large and obviously old book Bilbo had slid out from its place behind other new books. He followed the hobbit to the table and read the passage Bilbo pointed to, leaning slightly over the shorter male’s shoulder. He exhaled sharply as he realised just what it was he was reading, he moved to stand by Bilbo’s side and accepted the chair that was pushed at him with barely a flicker. Sinking down he watched in amazement as Bilbo scanned through the book for yet another section for him to read before leaving his side momentarily. Before he had finished the section Bilbo had pointed out, the hobbit was back with several sheets of parchment, Dwalin’s eyes widened as he recognised Bilbo’s own hand on the sheet and accepted them almost reverently. He paled the further through the work he read, he raised his eyes to Bilbo’s not surprised to see the hobbit sitting on the desk by his hand.

“Sixty years is but a nap for the worm isn’t it?” he whispered, hating how broken his voice sounded.

“Mahal Bilbo I am so sorry.” He flinched as Bilbo reached a hand out to him, “How can you still stand to look at any of us?” 

Something occurred to him and Dwalin pushed to his feet over turning the chair as he did. “You already knew all of this!” he gasped grabbing Bilbo’s hands, “You already suspected the worm was likely still alive when I was talking to you.” 

He knew he was likely gripping Bilbo’s hands too tightly but he couldn’t bring himself to slacken his grip, “Mahal Bilbo how can you even think about going with us?” Dwalin leant forward and rested his forehead against Bilbo’s almost reverently, not allowing himself to break eye contact once. The hobbit still seemed calm and Dwalin stilled when their foreheads were pressed together. 

Bilbo had expected a much louder reaction and so merely returned the pressure on his fingers gently. “Master Dwalin,” he whispered fighting not to close his eyes, he knew the dwarf would be able to see the truth in them and needed the larger male to believe what he said. “I can think about going with you because no one deserves their home taken from them, no one deserves to be pushed from pillar to post, kits deserve to have a safe home.” 

He swallowed allowing his own sadness to seep from where he kept it locked in the back of his mind, “I couldn’t save my own family Dwalin, and my people weren’t strong enough to defend our own homes. If I can help you get yours back I will do whatever is in my power to help that happen.” He finally closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Whatever I can do…even if it means burglarising a dragon.”

Dwalin stood shocked at the pain radiation off Bilbo, then he was shocked at just what he was being told. He stepped back still holding onto Bilbo’s hands. “Do you mean that?” he whispered, barely daring to believe that Bilbo would sign the contract and come with them. His heart sped up as Bilbo hopped off the table and moved so he was once again in Dwalin’s personal space. “Well I mean it if you let me go so I can use my hand to find a quill and ink.”

The thud of the chair falling had not gone unnoticed, so it was that when Balin, Thorin and Gloin burst through the study door they found Bilbo and Dwalin desperately grasping the desk top as they fought with their laughter a signed contract on the surface between them.


	18. Favours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took Dwalin and Bilbo’s combined efforts to reassure a shaken Balin that everything was fine.

Chapter Seventeen - Favours.

It took Dwalin and Bilbo’s combined efforts to reassure a shaken Balin that everything was fine. Bilbo had even gone so far as to place a calming hand on the old dwarf’s shoulder for several long minutes. Thorin had left the room in a huff when he deemed they had been acting like tweens. Gloin had propped himself against a sturdy wooden bookcase and was keeping a weathered eye on the small group interact. 

“Really Master Balin,” huffed Bilbo, moving to sit in front of the still upset dwarf, “I honestly found nothing amiss with the contract, it was in fact very well written. I appreciate the effort that you must have put into it, it was very thorough and made several facts clear to me.” 

Bilbo tried not to shift uncomfortably as Balin fixed him with a stern look. He did run his fingers through his curls as he wondered how to placate the dwarf. “I can admit I didn’t like reading about exactly how many ways I could die on the journey before I even reach the dragon, but it means I am better prepared to face what could come.” 

Bilbo allowed his shoulders to drop as Balin shot him a sheepish grin, “I tell you what Master Balin, I will make you a deal.”

Bilbo sighed as Balin’s face instantly became suspicious and Gloin straightened from his slouch. He raised his hands palms out, “Just hear what I have to say first please. Master Balin I am giving unlimited access to this room and the books and documents in it to you and one other dwarf you deem worthy. All I ask in return is I am taught the basics of how to defend myself.” Bilbo waited for an outcry of rage and when none came he relaxed and shot a questioning glance at Dwalin. 

The large male stepped around his brother and crouched beside Bilbo laying a weapon callused hand on both their knees. “Brother,” he rumbled gently and Bilbo bit his check to stop himself commenting that no-one should be able to gently rumble as it was a contradiction, shaking himself slightly he focused back on the conversation and blushed slightly as he realised both brothers were watching him. 

“Sorry,” he winced, “I got lost in my own head there. Could you repeat that?” When Balin merely smiled widely at him, Bilbo couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Well laddie,” muttered Balin, “I think that’s a grand idea, I know just the dwarf as well. Could I add something to what we can do in return for you though laddie?” Bilbo looked between the two brothers with growing concern as he took in Dwalin’s confused face and Balin’s mischievous grin.

“Possibly Master Balin,” he squeaked, mentally kicking himself for sounding so worried, “It depends what it is though.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but swallow as Balin’s grin became even more impish, “Oh not much laddie,” sung the white haired dwarf, prompting Bilbo with a desire to run far away until Balin had found someone else to plot against, he resisted and kept focusing on what Balin was saying, “Just that you let us help you plan what to take with you, after all you admitted yourself you know nothing about the wilds.” 

Bilbo relaxed at the same time Dwalin stiffened where he was crouched next to him. “What Master Dwalin?” he groaned, becoming more alert again as Balin’s eyes twinkled merrily, failing to notice Gloin slip from the room, “Should I be worried?”

Dwalin was at first happy to see his brother taking his words about Bilbo to heart, the smirk his older brother was supporting soon put paid to that idea though. He listened with a feeling of growing doom to Balin’s suggestion. His brother’s eyes laughed at him when he tried to glare down the older dwarf and Dwalin suppressed a groan as he realised just who Balin would be suggesting helped Bilbo with packing. The desire to strangle his brother receded slightly as Bilbo turned to him for reassurance, but only slightly. Dwalin suddenly had an idea on how to get his brother back for whatever strange thoughts were going on in that white head of his. Honestly who had heard of someone assisting non-family to pack? It was almost scandalous.

He turned to Bilbo, “I wouldn’t worry Bilbo, and I’ll help if it makes you feel better.” He met the green-hazel eyes and smiled softly at the look of relief in them. Dwalin sucked in a breath and steeled himself to keep talking, “Erm you can say no if you want Bilbo, but maybe my brother should read what you showed me.” Dwalin kept his eyes on Bilbo’s face, trying to figure out if the hobbit was cross with him. Bilbo was chewing his lip but his eyes-although sad-stayed their green-hazel colour. 

“Okay then Master Dwalin,” the quiet answer had Dwalin sighing in relief, “On the condition he shows no-one else but the other he has chosen to explore the room with.” Bilbo tilted his head, “It would do no good for everyone to read it, and they only need to know the basics.”

Dwalin found he couldn’t disagree with that and directed his brother into the chair he had occupied. Bilbo’s nerves showed by the clenching of his hands, Dwalin watched the long fingers flex and frowned worriedly at the hobbit. Bilbo wasn’t looking at him though instead the smaller man had his head tilted as if he could hear something outside of the room. Dwalin turned back to sort through the papers and find the places in the old book. He was so engrossed in making sure they were in the right order that he actually jumped when Bilbo’s voice floated through the room.

“Please relax master Ori, I promise none of the books in the room bite.” 

Dwalin bit back a laugh and pointed at the place his brother should start reading before leaving to edge up to Bilbo’s side. Ori looked torn between worshiping the ground Bilbo stood on or running to the bookshelves. He smiled softly down at Bilbo, taking in the hobbit’s indulgent smile at the smaller dwarf, there was no pity in the green-hazel eyes only joy that he could share his passion with someone who truly appreciated it. 

“Honestly Master Ori,” crooned Bilbo, and Dwalin smile deepened as the smaller male shifted to lean against his chest. Dwalin watched as Bilbo grabbed Ori’s hand, the action making the shy dwarf look at the pair of them, Dwalin forced down a blush at the surprise shown in Ori’s brown eyes at the way they were standing, he almost sighed out loud in relief as Bilbo merely took it as the same surprise they’d all shown whenever he did anything nice. 

“Please Master Ori go and enjoy yourself,” Dwalin could hear the laughter in the hobbits voice and marvelled as it made the higher pitched voice sound almost velvety, “Who else am I going to share all this with?” Dwalin watched as Ori’s face lit up, the almost childlike joy shown there made him think he could kiss Bilbo.

He was broken from his shock at that chain of thought by Ori, “Thank you Master Baggins!” The young dwarf sounded almost faint from happiness, “Oh I don’t know where to start!”

Dwalin frowned as Bilbo pushed away from him with a chuckle. He tilted his head to watch as Bilbo pulled Ori across the room, never releasing the dwarf’s hand for a second, he couldn’t keep frowning and smirked as he realised just how tactile certain dwarves were becoming around Bilbo without even realising it. Bilbo voice floated across the room to him, “Now this is a list of all the books I own Master Ori. If you look at the tops of the pages you will find they have different coloured lines there, they match up with the colours on the shelf the book can be found on.” 

Dwalin laughed as Bilbo flinched away from the almost high pitched squeal Ori gave, “Shut up Master Dwalin, I have sensitive hearing, no Master Ori I wasn’t meaning you had to not do anything, Master Dwalin this is all your fault. He was starting to relax around me.” 

Dwalin gulped and backed slowly away from the advancing hobbit, he paid little attention to Ori’s nervousness being replaced by a sly smirk or Balin’s worried frown as the older dwarf was pouring over the book. He was solely focused on calming Bilbo down.

“Now Bilbo, I meant nothing by it,” he pleaded almost desperately, once in his life time was enough for Bilbo to be upset at him. "Well actually I did,” he decided honesty might save him, “But nothing bad!” he amended watching green-hazel eyes narrow further. He took another involuntary step back, before kicking himself for losing ground. The door was still open behind him and Dwalin knew he was now on the thresh hold of the room, he had to gain back Bilbo’s equilibrium before anyone else saw him backing away from a hobbit. Especially after Bilbo’s line to Kili on the company’s first night at Bag End. 

He held up his hands in a placating move, “Come on you have to admit if it was anyone else you would find the fact you didn’t flinch when a dwarf was tackling you to the floor, but did merely because someone got excited next to you amusing.”

Dwalin swallowed as Bilbo’s face switched from annoyed to blank, the fact the smaller man was still stalking towards him had him twitching to hold his ground, “Or not! I apologise Bilbo.”

His brain switched to begging, Dwalin knew he wasn’t afraid of Bilbo, not in the same way he would have been of any other race, but he would admit to himself he was worried about just what the hobbit would do. After all the smaller male had outmanoeuvred him every time Dwalin had tried to get information from him. He snapped to attention when he realised Bilbo had stopped with just over an arm’s length between them, the smirk that now graced the smaller male’s face had him pulling his lower lip between his teeth and Dwalin had to admit that probably lost him ground. 

In his nervousness he failed to see Bilbo’s eyes light up. As the hobbit took another step forward the smirk became almost predatory and Dwalin found himself taking several stumbling steps backwards, taking him halfway across the hall. For some reason he didn’t think to make a break for it down the empty hall, and he breathed in sharply as Bilbo’s walk became almost sinuous. He gulped as he realised he was backed against the wall, and Bilbo was still walking towards him.

“Please Bilbo,” he begged, wondering if he could pull off the same puppy dog eyes his nephew’s had perfected. He looked at Bilbo through his lashes, trying to control his breathing as he knew it would give away his nervousness. “I meant no harm by it and you know it.” 

He took a deep breath as he realised there was a look in Bilbo’s eyes he’d never seen before, it wasn’t a look of anger or one that made him think of pain but Dwalin was suddenly even more nervous. “Please Bilbo,” he groaned in desperation. 

Suddenly the hobbit was well within his personal space and Dwalin breathed in sharply through his nose as slender arms slid around his hips until delicate hands rested on his lower back, he peered down at Bilbo realising as he did the hobbit had drawn himself up to his proper height and so was already at eye level with his mouth. Unconsciously he licked his lips, fighting to hold still as Bilbo closed the final inches between their bodies.

“Oh Master Dwalin, you do beg prettily,” Dwalin froze as the hot breath blew over his ear and it wasn’t until Bilbo’s voice floated across the hall to him that he realised the hobbit had stepped away. “But I’ll behave, it’s hardly fair on you, especially if you haven’t yet figured out what I meant.” 

Dwalin watched as Bilbo sagged against the wall with his eyes closed, he had taken a step towards him when the hobbit opened his eyes and the expression in them was the same wry humour Dwalin had become accustomed to, “Right then Master Dwalin, I forgive you, even though there was nothing to forgive, come and help me figure out if I have anything worth taking with me on this journey.”

Just like that Dwalin found the equilibrium restored and he took off after Bilbo, he was unable to stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face. He merely waved cheerily at a frowning Thorin and stepped over the threshold of Bilbo’s bedroom.


	19. Preperations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo throws a massive hissy fit and Dwalin is like a kid in a candy shop.

_Chapter eighteen-Preparations. ___

Dwalin let out a gasp of appreciation as he entered Bilbo’s bedroom. It was like a treasure trove of colour and warmth. The furniture was made of a brilliantly warm red-brown rosewood, the darker grain making the lighter portions gleam with the light of the oil lamps Bilbo lit. The lamps themselves were made with red bronze and frosted glass. The leaded round window was painted with the face of a woodland guardian and was hung with red bronze, leaf patterned burnt orange velvet curtains. These swept the Rose wood floor and Dwalin eyed the thick red and grey clippy rug with an appreciative eye. It looked soft. The mirror was an ancient one of burnished bronze covered with glass and the dressing table was set with a silver and mother of pearl grooming set. The walls were of the softest cream, with the alcoves around the window and between the blackened roof beams painted with a rich-dark orange. The bed looked comfortable and was spread with a needle-point embroidered cream quilt, the patterns echoing the rug and window, while the threads seemed to glow like the mother of pearl on the dressing table. 

He cleared his throat and looked at Bilbo who was watching him anxiously. “So where do you want me to start?”  


Dwalin’s cheery outlook didn’t last long and he glared at Bilbo’s wardrobe as if it had offered him grievous insult. The hobbit didn’t seem to own anything that wasn’t embroidered or made of soft fabric. The humorous look Bilbo was sending him didn’t help and Dwalin huffed again as he looked over the piles of clothing spread across what was once an immaculately tidy bedroom. “Really Bilbo,” he groaned, leaning heavily against the rosewood wardrobe, “You seriously don’t own and heavy clothing, leather armour or anything?”

He honestly didn’t know why he was surprised, after all Bilbo had owned to not being a warrior or a traveller only hours earlier, but yet a small part of him had still hoped that he had been exaggerating. “You really don’t travel much do you?” 

He winced as Bilbo shot him a wry look from where he was starting to put the clothing back into the wardrobe, “Ya think?” Dwalin bit his lip and heard Bilbo sigh, “Sorry Master Dwalin, it’s just … I’m a little on edge now.” 

Dwalin looked at the smaller man in shock and reached out a steadying hand, but stopped before himself before he clasped Bilbo’s shoulder, drawing his hand back and stuffing his fists into his pockets. “Is it because I’m here Bilbo?” he asked unconsciously worrying his lower lip. 

Bilbo looked across at Dwalin and sighed, feeling guilt well up at how he had treated the dwarf throughout the past day. He wrapped his fingers around Dwalin’s wrist and squeezed gently getting half an eye crinkle in response. Giving up on putting the clothes away for now Bilbo slid to the floor gestured for Dwalin to do the same, he smiled as the dwarf settled next to him, glad some trust was still there after his stupidity earlier.

“It’s not you Master Dwalin,” he glanced at the dwarf from under his lashes and took some strength from the fact Dwalin was examining his bare knuckles rather than looking at him, “It’s definitely not you.” When he got a huff in response Bilbo let out a nervous chuckle, “Honestly I’m telling the truth, it’s your crown prince and the wizard.” 

Lowering his own eyes Bilbo didn’t see Dwalin look sharply at him and continued on nervously, “I don’t think they are bad people per say but something about them has me on edge.” He entangled his fingers trying to stop his hands shaking, not noticing Dwalin had shifted closer.

“I know Master Oakenshield doesn’t trust me, hell I know he has taken an instant dislike to me…but then none of you really trust me yet and I doubt you can honestly like me without trusting me so that shouldn’t bother me that he thinks that. But it does. Although it might have something to do with how rude and obnoxious he was before I had even spoken to him. I mean really who walks into someone’s home, a home they have opened up to a bunch of strangers out of the goodness of their hearts and insults them? Who make their first question to a stranger about fighting or weapons of choice, unless he was itching for a fight himself? He circled me like I was a rabbit and he a wolf, acted like I owed him something now correct me if I am wrong but wasn’t it him who sent twelve other dwarves to my house uninvited and it was only thanks to you I had any idea of them coming. I mean can you imagine if you hadn’t gotten here a day early.” 

Bilbo took a deep breath, barely registering that Dwalin was now sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, “Then there’s the bloody wizard. I meant what I said! He’s an interfering old fart. I told him I didn’t want to go on no sodding adventure and he ignored everything I said, vandalised my property and aided and abetted Master Oakenshield in getting my home filled with dwarves, of course I blame Gandalf entirely. If he hadn’t contacted Master Oakenshield then the prince wouldn’t have thought to send you all here. Man needs to learn the meaning of the word no. Of course he didn’t explain anything to me just asked if I wanted to go on an adventure, I mean I am a hobbit who asks a hobbit that?” 

He barely recognised his own voice anymore, but found he couldn’t stop, “I have no blame for the rest of you, believe me, despite how much it hurts that you all can’t trust me I can understand why you don’t. Heck if I were in any of your places I would probably be ten times worse, I mean at least you are willing to eat what I provided you, drink random crap I shoved at you all when you were hung-over. Master Dori was willing to tell me his familys’ history, Master Kili has even given me a hug. I honestly can’t believe you willing left off your armour and weapons around me, if what you told me is all that you have been through personally I am amazed by your willingness to be anywhere near me let alone without weapons. I know you don’t really need them against me but still it must have been hard for you too…oomph!”

 

Dwalin had listened to Bilbo talking with growing concern. That they had made the gentle creature feel that way in his own home was un-defendable and he would be having a private word with Thorin later about his role in it, but for now he had to figure out a way to make Bilbo understand that he wasn’t afraid of him without giving offence or making the hobbit feel un-needed. Stopping him talking was the simple part as Dwalin merely wrapped his hand around his mouth, the action also had the added value of drawing Bilbo’s green-hazel eyes to his own. 

“Stop Bilbo!” he rumbled, carefully removing his hand from the other’s mouth and dropping it to rest over the nervously twisting fingers. “Please relax.” He held Bilbo’s gaze, deliberately invading the other’s space, stopping when their foreheads were touching gently. “Thorin was out of order and my brother will have already talked to him, unfortunately there is nothing we can do about the wizard,” he added wryly, and somehow that made the spark come back to Bilbo’s eyes. Dwalin decided to continue, it was always Bilbo comforting him but he hadn’t realised just how hurt the hobbit had been by their actions. “I for one am finding it stupidly easy to trust you, and yes I like you, I think most of the company like you, and the trust thing will happen with time.” 

Dwalin smiled gently, hoping his words were comforting Bilbo slightly, or at all. He squeezed the long fingers he captured and pulled away so he could look at the hobbit properly. “Now why don’t we try this packing malarkey again?” he questioned with a cheeky grin he knew the hobbit wouldn’t be able to see. 

Bilbo felt embarrassed and ashamed and yet Dwalin managed to calm him down and make him feel better with just a few simple words, “Of course,” he smiled gently at the dwarf, wishing he knew him well enough to be able to tell the difference between the eye crinkles. “I’m sorry for… well having a hissy fit on you twice? Three times today.” The laugh he got in response lifted his spirits. He thought back to what Dwalin had asked before and it suddenly hit him. “Did you ask if I had any heavy or leather clothing?” 

Dwalin followed along behind Bilbo, one hand still captured by the hobbit. He didn’t know why the smaller man had a gleeful grin on his face, but was happy to find out. They didn’t seem to bump into anyone as they wandered further into Bag End and Dwalin spent a moment wondering where everyone could be, before he walked into Bilbo’s back. He blushed and got a light chuckle in response. Peering over Bilbo’s shoulder he watched as the hobbit unlocked the door and took a light from the wall. He followed Bilbo into the dark room, wondering why he felt a sense of loss at getting his hand back. The trunks lined neatly along the walls soon distracted his thoughts and with a nod from Bilbo Dwalin was moving to look through them. He whooped out loud as he found travelling gear, obviously old but in remarkably good condition. He smiled widely at Bilbo as the hobbit laughed at his excitement, “I thought you said you didn’t travel?”

He got a chuckle in response as Bilbo came up to him, “Oh _I _don’t.”__

The breath over his ear almost made Dwalin miss the inflection in the sentence, “Oh and just who did then?” 

He turned his head and found himself nose to nose with Bilbo. He was startled for a second before he realised the hobbit had once again drawn himself up to his full height. Without thinking he blurted, “Why do you do that?” all it got him was a confused look and so he expanded slightly, knowing that Bilbo could well withdraw at such an impertinent question, “Why do you hide your true height?”

Bilbo felt himself blush at Dwalin’s words, and perched himself on an unopened chest before answering, “I suppose because I am that used to doing so.” He smiled sadly at the confused dwarf, “I am a hobbit Master Dwalin, and we are not tall.” He cricked his neck and wondered how to explain, “I come from two family lines that are above average height for my race, as a kit I was teased for my height, especially at the beginning of my tweens when I was taller than some adults." He tilted his head so he could look Dwalin square in the face, “I guess I just learnt to hide my height so I didn’t stand out so much.” 

He could see Dwalin understood and desperately searched for a way to change the conversation, “I’ll try not to do so as we travel, but first I need stuff to travel with,” he gestured at the open chest, “Any of that any good?”

Dwalin recognised the subject change and nodded to himself, he’d make sure Bilbo walked tall, he shouldn’t have to hide. “Aye Bilbo it is good quality if a little musty. I want to see what’s in the other chests before I say it’s the best though.” He paused, “Is that okay?” 

He was granted another laugh and a blinding smile, “Aye Master Dwalin I wouldn’t have let you in the room if it wasn’t okay…oh and if you see anything any of the company could use please take it…don’t argue!”

Dwalin shut his mouth with a snap and stared at Bilbo in astonishment, he knew he must look odd but it was taking his brain a while to filter what he’d just been offered. “Anything?” he breathed.

“Aye Master Dwalin, Anything.” There was humour in the hobbit’s voice and Dwalin flushed slightly before grinning.

“Thank you Bilbo,” he paused, “Can I ask if you would mind dropping the Master?” he smiled down into the still seated hobbit’s eyes, “I would much prefer to be just Dwalin if it pleases you.” 

Bilbo felt the smile spread across his face as Dwalin offered him a great display of trust, “I would be honoured Dwalin.” He grabbed the weapon worn hand, “Why don’t I leave you to rummage in here while I go check on the rest of the company, any of the clothes should fit me and you will know what I actually need and what the company will actually need.” He paused at the door, “And yes Dwalin I meant you could take anything.” 

Bilbo nearly skipped up the hall, only stopping himself by the mental reminder that Master Oakenshield already thought he was useless. He entered the kitchen and smiled warmly as he realised Nori and Ori had even tidied up after themselves, the dishes stacked neatly on the table as they didn’t know where they went. He spent several calming minutes pondering over his reactions to the dwarves in his home and his thoughts settled on one dwarf in particular. Humming softly Bilbo returned the dishes to their homes before wandering into the dining room. He stopped at the door and grinned across at a starry eyed Kili. Walking lightly on the balls of his feet he reached the dark haired dwarf unnoticed by anyone else. He sat down carefully and eyed the dreamy expression on the young dwarf’s face with a soft smile. It seemed Kili had a small crush and it wasn’t on Fili as he’d originally thought. Deciding it was none of his business he elbowed the dwarf softly. Kili’s dark eyes flashed to him, instantly alert, and so he held his hands up palms outwards. 

“Peace Mister Kili,” he soothed, watching the tension drain from his shoulders. “I just wanted to say that if we are indeed leaving in the morrow then we should all probably get some rest.”

He looked at Kili who was shaking his head. “We’re not leaving tomorrow?” he questioned softly. 

“Nay Master Boggins, Uncle has decided that we could all do with a bit more rest and so said day after.” 

Bilbo eyed Thorin ruefully at the dark haired dwarf’s answer. Of course the stubborn bugger would change his mind now Bilbo was raring to go. Oh well it would give him time to make sure the Sackville-Baggins’ would never get their grubby hands on Bag End. He could also have a small bit of fun, grocer indeed. 

%

Dwalin was having a great time as he rummaged through chests that hadn’t been opened for a great many years. He was surprised to find that much of the travelling gear was more feminine in design and carefully placed it back in the chest he had found them in. He did keep the pair of daggers he’d found with the feminine clothing to one side, he knew Bilbo had admitted to not knowing how to fight, but they were small enough to be used as knives if the hobbit so wanted. 

He had more luck in the next chest where he found several pairs of thick trousers, rough spun shirts, and a leather jerkin. He carefully placed them on the floor and carried on looking. He allowed himself a chuckle as he pulled free a sturdy looking pack from the bottom of one chest, shaking it free of the delicate material it had been hidden under. He eyed the clothes, the pile seemed small but he supposed Bilbo would have every day wear he could have for over or under it. Besides if he took too much more then there wouldn’t be room for other essentials. 

He delved into a black leather bound chest and smirked as the first thing he found was a sleeping roll. It even still had its blanket. It was made of a strange material but Dwalin had no doubt it would be just as warm if not more so than their own, after all hobbits seemed to like comfort. Prowling around the room Dwalin came to a stop by one chest and knelt by it carefully, it was dustier than the rest as if it had been pushed into the furthest corner and promptly forgotten about. He gingerly opened the lid and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his throat. He carefully lifted the bundle of parchments from their hidey hole and recognising Bilbo’s writing sat down on the floor to read.

%

It was passed midnight when Dwalin finally emerged from the room, he was dusty and carrying a bundle of stuff but it was the look of awe in his eyes that would have caused concern amongst his fellow dwarves. Luckily for him it was Bilbo he bumped into first. The hobbit had obviously been on his way back to check on Dwalin as he had a tray with two large mugs, a pot of steaming tea, a piled plate of biscuits, a small bowl of sugar and milk jug balanced on it.

He took one look at Dwalin’s face and chuckled, “Shall we go back to my room and I can pack those while you have a nice cup of tea?” 

When Dwalin merely nodded Bilbo smiled and led the way along the hall, he did wonder what Dwalin had found in those old chest to cause him to look like a love struck tween, but thought better than to pry, if Dwalin wanted him to know he was sure the dwarf would tell him. He kept shooting glances at Dwalin as he packed most of the things carefully into the bag Dwalin had found. He was pleased to see the dwarf seemed to be returning to normal as he sipped his tea, and bit back a smirk as he noticed the dent that had been made in the plate of cookies, a huge difference to Dwalin’s first night there. 

Dwalin watched as Bilbo moved gracefully around placing things carefully into the pack, he wanted to ask about what he’d found but wasn’t sure how it would be received. He’d placed the pages on the small pile he’d found for the company and felt no guilt in taking them, but he did want to know where the hobbit had come across the information. It certainly explained the knowledge the hobbit had shown about the line of Durin, Erebor, Ered Luin and the battle of Azanulbizar. He eyed the slender man with renewed respect. He had been right when he told Balin that Bilbo was different.

For the first time in a century Dwalin felt hope rise in his chest and stay there. He smiled at Bilbo relishing in the answering grin he got in return. “I do believe I found a couple of things the company might find useful Bilbo, I hope you don’t mind but I left them in a pile in the room?” 

Bilbo chuckled, “I said anything didn’t I Dwalin?” he rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to question your short term memory,” he chuckled to take the sting out of his words. 

“Honestly its fine,” he flopped down beside Dwalin on the bed, “Pour me a cup would you, I feel like I need one.” 

He accepted the cup eagerly and smiled across at the dwarf again, “Thank you for helping Dwalin, I would have had no idea where to start.” He huffed slightly, “I would probably have packed handkerchiefs and some books,” he smiled into his mug as Dwalin laughed. He decided the dwarf’s laugh was almost musical and he was determined to have it happen as much as possible, even if it meant joking about his inabilities. He relaxed further not realising he hadn’t slouched once since Dwalin had pulled him for it earlier. 

Dwalin felt a twinge of guilt at laughing at Bilbo’s inexperience with traveling the wilds but it had obviously been made as a joke, so he let himself chuckle and slid further across the bed so his back was resting on the wall. “Bilbo,” he mused, savouring yet another biscuit, “Where did you learn to cook so well?” 

Bilbo laughed at him and slid across the bed so he was leaning against the wall next to the dwarf, “My father taught me most of it. Well the baking and high end cooking anyway. My mother taught me to make simple filling meals from not very much.” 

He sighed as the dwarf chuckled sleepily this time. “Rabbit stew was something I learnt to make through trial and error. Mainly error. It goes along the lines of: catch rabbit, skin and clean rabbit, then chuck rabbit into a pan with some water and any veggies I could lay my hands on.”

He shifted slightly as Dwalin slid down the bed slightly, “The biscuits are Viennese swirls, but they are not my best, I need more time and no distractions to make my best biscuits.” He felt a weight on his should and turned his head slightly to find Dwalin’s head rested there, “Dwalin?” 

The dwarf huffed slightly, “Can I keep you Bilbo?” before he slipped into a gentle sleep. 

Bilbo sat frozen for several moments as Dwalin’s words bounced around his brain, before he mentally shook himself and reminded himself that Dwalin wouldn’t have meant it in any sense if he’d actually been awake. Smirking softly at the sleeping dwarf Bilbo manoeuvred himself so Dwalin was lying with his head on the pillows. Sliding off the covers he padded to the chest at the end of his bed and dug out the patchwork throw he kept in there. He settled it over Dwalin’s curled up form before slipping from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How I imagine the patchwork throw to look in Bilbo's bedroom. 
> 
> http://www.misi.co.uk/uploadedimages/7148220misi_quilt_diamond_bright_1.jpg
> 
> The Window In Bilbo's room. 
> 
> http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0002/1319/products/GM-mulity-leafed2114_large.gif?v=1388685349
> 
> The Rug in Bilbo's room
> 
> http://www.makeitandmendit.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/leafa1.jpeg
> 
> Bilbo's curtains
> 
> http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51o4+BNLmmL.jpg
> 
> %
> 
> There is a new chapter up in It's Worth Fighting for. It tells Fili and Kili's point of view up until this chapter.


	20. Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dwalin expresses a wish to stay in the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions please feel free to ask them. I might have to tell you they will be answered later in the story, but I will answer them if I can.

_Chapter Twenty-Bag End. ___

As the morning sun flooded into the sitting room of Bag End Bilbo slowly awoke. He groaned loudly as his body made its dislike of his falling asleep in a chair known to him. He stretched out like a cat enjoying the warmth of the sun through the glass and wincing as his spine popped as he arched his back. For a moment he wondered why he had fallen asleep in the chair, but as his eyes fell on a passed out Kili he remembered that Dwalin was in his bed and he’d collapsed in the chair after chasing most of the dwarves to bed at a stupid time in the morning. He suspected Balin and Ori were still encased in the study and a smile flittered across his face as he remembered Kili staunchly defending his intention to stay awake until Ori came out of the study. The lad definitely had a crush. Bilbo chuckled as he remembered what he had thought the first time he’d met the boys, they definitely made him feel older, and yet at the same time he was probably acting more irresponsibly than he had ever done. He had agreed to go with the company to rescue a mountain from a dragon. He winced as he realised he’d have to come up with some explanation for his neighbours and family. 

He pushed to his feet and decided to start the day with a hot bath and a cup of tea before he thought any more on the adventure waiting for him. He slipped into his bedroom, being extra quiet so as not to awake Dwalin (he just knew it could turn awkward quickly and he wanted to avoid that), snagging a quick change of clothing before he heaved a sigh of relief when he was out of the room without the dwarf stirring. As he slid the bolt on the bathing room door home he glanced down at the clothes in his hands and winced, they definitely clashed, shrugging slightly he began to strip down for his bath as he allowed the hot water to run. As he straightened from checking the temperature he caught sight of his back in the mirror and scowled at the three jagged, diagonal lines that ran along his pale skin. He didn’t think they would ever fade now, twenty years should have been enough for them to at least silver, but the infection that had set in after he’d received the wounds had meant they looked as fresh as they had ever done. Rolling his eyes at his own maudlin thoughts Bilbo hopped into the tub and proceeded to scrub his hair and skin clean, deliberately not dwelling on the fact it would probably be the last hot bath he would get in a while.

When he was satisfied his hair was clean he left the tub and briskly dried himself off, before pulling on the mismatched clothing without a second glance. He tucked the scarlet shirt into the mustard yellow cords with one hand, as he rummaged through the baskets beneath the sink for a comb with the other. Crowing in triumph when he found one and a leather hair tie he shot his reflection a smirk. He’d need the tie when they were further along the journey as his hair would probably not see a pair of scissors for several months. Whistling a happy tune Bilbo left the bath room, thong tucked in his shirt pocket and running the comb through his gold-amber curls. When he reached the kitchen the comb joined the thong in his shirt pocket and shaking wet curls off his forehead Bilbo set about starting breakfast. The kettle whistled as he was slicing rashers off a side of bacon and he poured himself a cup of tea, and promptly dropped it when he spotted Dwalin leaning against the doorframe watching him. 

Dwalin had woken up slowly, relishing in the fact he was still able to sleep in a bed, and a marvellously soft one at that. He kept his eyes closed as he stretched until the scent of the sheets he was wrapped in finally filtered through his sleepy brain. He stilled and cautiously cracked an eye open, before closing it slowly in anguish. He pushed himself up and tried to come to terms with the fact he was asleep in his host’s bed. As his eyes roved the room he realised the door was still partially ajar and clothes were still piled on the floor around the leather and jute pack Dwalin had found the day before. He could hear whistling in the distance and forced himself from the bed, all the while wondering how he would be able to face Bilbo. He had a vague memory of asking if he could keep the hobbit, like he was a puppy and really hoped he hadn’t said anything as remotely embarrassing as that. As in denial as he was Dwalin couldn’t help but wonder just why Bilbo had tucked him in after he had fell asleep on the smaller man rather than woken him up and sent him back to his own room. Dwalin walked softly down the hall, his bare feet making no sound on the floor boards as he followed the sound of the whistling to the kitchen. He felt a sense of deja vu as he leant on the doorframe watching Bilbo cook. He couldn’t help but admire the easy grace with which the hobbit moved around the kitchen, even with the brightly coloured clothing it was soothing for Dwalin to watch. 

He forgot about his embarrassment when he saw Bilbo drop the cup of scalding tea, rushing to the hobbit’s side, “Are you okay Bilbo? You didn’t get burnt did you? Is there…” a bright laugh cut him off and Dwalin stared as the bell like sounds sent a shiver down his spine. “I was rambling again wasn’t I?”

Between the shock he’d just gotten off Dwalin and the relief he’d felt at not getting caught by the tea or smashed pottery, Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh at the poor dwarf’s ramblings, despite the larger male obviously being worried. “I’m sorry Dwalin, I wasn’t laughing at you per say, I am fine though.” He nudged the shocked looking dwarf, “Thank you for caring.” He relaxed as he got an eye crinkle in response. “Now do you want breakfast?”

Bilbo had left Dwalin alone and in charge of the kitchen as he headed to his study to start getting ready to leave the Shire for an undisclosed amount of time. Finding Balin and Ori still engrossed in the books he shooed them out with instructions to have some tea, eat something and then sleep. He asked Ori to wake Kili and drag the dark haired dwarf with him. The cheeky smirk he got from the dwarf shocked him, he certainly wasn’t expecting Ori to have a wicked sense of humour. Shaking the random thoughts free Bilbo sat at his desk and pulled several sheets of parchment, a quill and ink towards him. Tapping his fingers on the wooden desk top Bilbo pondered on who needed to be informed and just what he should tell them. 

It was late afternoon when Bilbo finally emerged from the study and Dwalin rushed over to him. Catching the hobbit by the shoulders he held him at arm’s length checking he wasn’t hurt or upset, before releasing him with a sigh. He flushed when he realised just what he’d done, but was able to return Bilbo’s amused smile easily. “So Dwalin what have they put you through that I get that reaction from you?” 

Dwalin knew his flush was deepening but merely shook his head with a chuckle at Bilbo’s question, “Not too much Bilbo.” He paused and looked down at the hobbit, frowning for a second before sticking a finger into the smaller male’s ribs, “Stop hiding,” he grumbled. He hid his smirk when he got a face pulled at him in response, but Bilbo did stand tall beside him. 

Dwalin hadn’t realised he’d been leading them both outside until he felt the prickly spikes of grass against the soles of his bare feet. He sighed and felt Bilbo do the same beside him, “You know Bilbo if I hadn’t given Thorin my word that I would go with him to try and reclaim my home I’d ask if I could just stop in the Shire with you. Mahal if you wouldn’t have me I’d go find my own place in the Shire to live.” He knew he was flushing again but faced Bilbo squarely when he got a disbelieving snort in response. “There’s no need for that, I meant it.”

Bilbo looked up into Dwalin’s slightly frowning countenance, “You’d be bored with in a month Dwalin.” He patted the others muscled forearm gently, “You will always be welcome to visit after we’ve got you the mountain back.” He cocked his head and peered into grey eyes, “Could you perhaps not bring Master Oakenshield or the wizard next time though?” His innocent question got him a laugh and he had to shake himself to stop himself leaning in to feel if Dwalin’s chest vibrated with the rumbling sound. 

He sighed slightly, “I suppose I should make sure I have everything I need for the journey, you will need to repack, I dropped your clothes off on your bed last night.” He cricked his neck and so missed Dwalin flush deeply at that. “Did you not tell me you had a pile of stuff stashed for the company?” He grinned at the dwarf. “If we make haste I can even cook us a proper dinner tonight.”

The rest of the day was spent checking and double checking packs, weapons and clothing. Bilbo was surprised when Dwalin showed him the twin daggers and agreed readily to wearing them at all times. 

Kili was actually separate from his brother for most of the afternoon only reuniting with the elder Durin brother when Dwalin handed him two waxed leathers.

Ori had managed to hide from Dori’s fussing by retreating to the study again, but left his research when Dwalin handed him Bilbo’s hand written notes on the translation of “Zahar ald Khazad-Dûm: Dorni Durin Mornlos”. The squeal Ori had emitted had drawn most of the company to the study, only Bilbo and the wizard being absent. A look from Dwalin had Ori sliding the parchment into his knitted vest, carefully concealing it from view. The scribe had no desire to share such long forgotten (long thought lost) information with anyone until he’d had a chance to read it himself. Besides the original of that book lay in Erebor and he would guard the pages with his life until he could research the points made in the hobbit’s neat hand in the ancient book. He locked eyes with Dwalin and as the dwarf shook his head pouted slightly. It seemed that despite being the closest to Bilbo even the guardsman didn’t know how or even if Master Baggins could read Khuzdul.

Bilbo’s shout drew all the dwarves back to the dining room, leaving Ori to breathe a sigh of relief as he was left alone. Shutting the door quietly the young dwarf carefully rolled the sheets of parchment before wrapping them in one of the waterproof sheets of leather he carried on his person. It took him only moments and he was sliding into a seat next to Kili before Dori had even noticed he was missing. He flushed slightly at the look he got off Master Baggins but held the hobbit’s gaze and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book title is the Building of Khazad-dum: by King Durin the Deathless.


	21. Ponies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo realises he has to ride.

_Chapter Twenty One-Ponies. ___

Despite Thorin wanting to leave Bag End at dawn the sun was sitting high in the eastern sky when the royal dwarf was finally ready to leave. Bilbo-who had woken when the horizon was just turning a light green-was sitting on his fence laughing at something Dwalin had said when he saw the dwarf stiffen his spin. A glance over his shoulder saw Thorin deliberately ignoring the dwarf and he frowned as he glanced discreetly between the two. He hopped off the fence as the company began to head off, sidling up Dwalin’s side and resting a reassuring hand on his arm. Grey eyes filled with hurt looked at him and Bilbo resisted the urge to throw his arms around the dwarf until he smiled.

“What happened to make him act towards you as he does towards me Dwalin?” Bilbo kept his voice low and quiet, making sure the rest of the company couldn’t hear him. Beside him Dwalin snorted and Bilbo looked at him from under his eyelashes.

“Oh just ignore the stubborn idiot Bilbo,” Dwalin attempted to smile at the hobbit despite his rapidly increasing bad mood, “He’s just upset that he lost a discussion with me last night.” The pressure on his arm increase and Dwalin shrugged at Bilbo’s slight frown. “Seriously it is fine, he’ll be back to normal before you know it Bilbo.” 

When the frown didn’t shit Dwalin frowned himself, desperately searching his brain for a change of conversation. “Did you get everything you needed to sorted yesterday Bilbo?” The frown didn’t shift and Dwalin felt guilty, but at least the smaller man was no longer aiming the frown at Thorin’s back. 

Bilbo glanced across at Dwalin, settling his pack more comfortably on his shoulders before he answered, “Aye it’s all sorted Dwalin.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, “Well I hope it’s all sorted, I might have left the instructions and the rest of the notes in the Gaffer’s mail box rather than trying to explain to a hobbit that I am going travelling with a group of dwarves and one wizard.” 

At Dwalin’s amused look he decided to expand slightly. “Come on Dwalin. You’ve met hobbits right? You’ve seen how they react to different. Can you honestly imagine them shaking my hand and wishing me luck if I told them I was off to laugh at a live dragon…really they would have me locked up under the care of my relatives…most probably the Sackville-Bagginses at that.” He shuddered artistically, as Dwalin’s beard twitched, “Horrible people those two. Urgh Lobelia would probably try to dress me in pink and frills. No thank you!” He finished dramatically, and just like that they were laughing again.

Ignoring the strange looks they were getting from the rest of the company, they continued to talk as the odd group made its way through the Shire to the Green Dragon. Bilbo waved back at a couple of his younger cousins and pulled faces behind the back of some disdainfully sniffing hobbitesses. Dwalin found it amusing that the same old dames who had recoiled in horror when he had walked through the Shire by himself dared to show distain in the presence of thirteen dwarves simply because one of their own were there.

He said as much to Bilbo and the hobbit dissolved into laughter again, “Oh Goddess.” He gasped holding onto Dwalin’s arm to keep himself upright, “I don’t think I have been considered one of their own since I died the old bat’s hair blue in my tweens.” This set Dwalin off again and by the time the group reached the Green Dragon both dwarf and hobbit were holding their aching ribs and still randomly chuckling. 

Bilbo stopped short as they entered the yard and glowered across at the sight that greeted them. Around him the dwarves were chatting happily as they attached their packs to the backs of several ponies. Bilbo stood stock still in disbelief and if it hadn’t been for the weight of Thorin’s eyes on him would have closed his own in despair. He had bad memories of riding one of these beasts in his youth and had no desire to get on the back of one now. 

He was thankful Dwalin had moved further away and was setting up his own pony beside Master Balin, but he also wanted some moral support. So it was with a small smile he turned to the dwarf who had laid a warm hand on his shoulder. “Master Bifur.” He greeted cordially, “I don’t suppose you could help me get on one of these things could you.” At the dwarf’s confused look Bilbo pointed to his own feet, “I’m made for walking not riding Master Bifur and it had been years since I was on the back of one of those things.” His self-ridicule got him a gentle slap to the back of his head and Bifur pulling him to stand by a dirty blonde animal. 

He looked askance at the dwarf with the axe in his head, “Yes well how do I get up?” Bifur’s laugh was harsh like two rocks grinding together but Bilbo smiled back at him, “I’m glad I amuse you,” Bifur merely grinned and knelt on the ground next to him with his hands cupped together. Bilbo’s eyes widened and he hung his head for a second, “Okay I can do this.” He tightened the final strap that would keep his pack on the back of the pony.

“What happens if I go straight over the other side Master Bifur?” The dwarf’s laugh was back so Bilbo merely rolled his eyes and accepted the help to get into his saddle. 

Once he was up there Bifur patted his knee and wandered off. Bilbo shook his head in amusement. Obviously more than Dwalin were gentler than they looked. Dredging up long discarded lessons on riding, Bilbo managed to get the creature to walk over to Fili and Kili, “Boys,” he greeted, “Can you explain to me when we will actually be setting off?” at their confused look he chuckled, “It’s just I am finally up on the creature’s back so I would kind of like to move before I fall off it.” Rich laughter surrounded him as honey and velvet voices cackled in mirth.

“Oh Mahal Master Boggins,” hiccupped Kili, “I don’t think I have ever met anyone like you.” Bilbo smiled and offered him a short bow, swaying gently in the saddle as the pony investigated a tuft of feverfew. 

“Why thank you kindly Master Kili,” he grinned and was about to say something else when Thorin’s voice floated back to them.

“We move out!” he rolled his eyes slightly at the abrupt tone. 

Straightening his jacket he turned back to the brothers, leaning in confidentially, “Oh and it is Baggins, Master Kili, although if you find it easier just call me Bilbo.” 

He trotted off after the rest of the company leaving the brothers staring after him momentarily. They soon caught up and after much apologising on their part, and reassurance on Bilbo’s settled into conversation. Bilbo had to admit the boys did like to talk when they trusted someone, he also had to admit he felt safer on the back of the beast riding between the two of them.

He tuned out their argument and looked along the column taking everyone in. Nori was slumped down in his saddle seemingly asleep, although Bilbo caught a glimpse of his green eyes as he watched. Dori rode beside him, so comfortable on the back of a brown pony that he was knitting. Bilbo rubbed his eyes, nope not seeing things he was definitely knitting. Thorin rode at the head of the column, straight backed and eyes sharp. Bilbo rolled his own, someone really needed to remove the stick from his backside. Dwalin rode beside his brother and both of them seemed comfortable riding. Balin was currently gesturing wildly and Dwalin had a pipe wedged between his teeth as he nodded with whatever point was being made. Gandalf was on a white horse, towering over the rest of them as he always did, Bilbo sniggered, ignoring the looks from the dwarves either side of him, they were a strange enough bunch without adding the human male. His eyes settled on the knitted back of a hunched in Ori. The poor lad seemed almost as discomforted as he on the back of a grey pony and he elbowed Kili in the ribs, pointing discretely at the pale looking dwarf. Kili flushed prettily before riding ahead to give Ori some pointers and hopefully distract him.

Smirking to himself Bilbo shifted slightly in the saddle so he could take in the rest of the company. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur rode three abreast, and while none of them looked particularly comfortable they didn’t seem to mind the rocking motion of the ponies. Bombur in particular just looked bored. Gloin and Oin were too far behind him to see and so Bilbo turned his attention back to Fili, and his mouth dropped open as he saw him subtly looking at Bofur. 

When they finally stopped for the day Bilbo was sore and tired. His eyes itched and his nose was stuffy. He grumbled tiredly as he lowered himself off the creature. His legs wouldn’t hold his weight and he would have likely ended up sitting painfully on the ground if strong arms hadn’t snaked around his middle. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled wearily at Dwalin, “Thank you,” he muttered, wincing as feeling began to flow back into his feet. Despite that he took the chance to lean back against Dwalin’s broad chest again, “Does Thorin not want you to check the area out first?” 

Dwalin nuzzled his nose into sandalwood and lavender smelling curls, “Nar, he’s still in a snit and so is doing it himself.” 

Deciding he was comfortable, he tightened his grip around Bilbo’s waist to stop the hobbit escaping just yet, “How did you enjoy the journey so far?” He felt Bilbo sag against him, and smiled into soft curls when slender arms wrapped over the top of his own,.

“Oh it was fine,” huffed Bilbo, “Bar the bloody Pony I had to ride!” Dwalin tried not to laugh at the disgruntled tone of the hobbit’s voice. He himself didn’t mind the ponies, in fact he liked them, anything that made his life easier was a plus in his mind, however Bilbo obviously did mind them. Unable to speak without laughing he hummed in response. 

Thankfully Bilbo took it as permission to continue, “As I told Master Bifur, Hobbits are made for walking!” 

Dwalin couldn’t help but chuckle, “You would honestly have preferred to walk that distance with your pack, than ride?” He felt Bilbo twist in his arms and found himself looking into half annoyed/half amused green-hazel eyes, 

“Yes Dwalin!” There was a waver in the soft voice and Dwalin realised Bilbo was trying not to laugh and so raised an eyebrow faking disbelief.

“Really?” A long finger was prodded in his chest as Bilbo pouted up at him, before the slender arms wrapped around his waist. Dwalin smiled across at Bilbo. “Okay I get you don’t like the ponies, no need to get violent.” He cocked his head slightly, “You do know we’ve covered a fair distance today right?”  


Bilbo’s chuckle shocked him, “Aye Dwalin, I know how far we covered, the fact is we are still within the Shire boundaries.” 

Dwalin smiled softly, getting one in return, it occurred to Dwalin that if any of the rest of the company were watching they would find the position the two of them were in rather scandalous. He couldn’t bring himself to care and leant forward so his forehead was resting against Bilbo’s. He could see his own smirk reflected in Bilbo’s eyes and wasn’t surprised when the hobbit continued, “You do know I’ve walked this far and home with my mother when I was but a kit?”

Dwalin paused first at the question, then at the wistful tone of voice Bilbo had spoken in. “You’ve really walked here and home in one day?” he kept his voice low, letting Bilbo know he could drop the conversation if he wanted. He got a warm chuckle in response and Bilbo tilted his head back, breaking contact. Dwalin reluctantly loosened his arms so Bilbo could walk away if he wanted. Instead he got a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you Dwalin,” breathed Bilbo pressing their foreheads together again momentarily, “Why don’t you go and see if Master Oakenshield has dug himself into a hole yet?”

Dwalin stepped away at the same time as Bilbo and a quick glance around the clearing showed him they had actually been left alone. He decided to take Bilbo’s advice, after all Thorin was his oldest friend and might hopefully one day become his king. He shook his head, he would fix his friendship with Thorin, or at least start to, then he would go and talk to his brother. He was not going to dwell on the fact Bilbo had kissed him, no not at all. 

Bilbo leant against the side of his pony-realising as he did he had yet to find out its name or even if it were male or female. He cricked his neck, “You might as well come out Master Ori,” he spoke softly staring at the ground beneath his feet. The sound of shuffling feet drew his eyes upwards and he was met with a sheepish looking dwarf, “No shadow tonight?” he asked raising an eyebrow. To his delight Ori blushed and mutely shook his head. “You know Master Ori, I doubt Master Kili realises how much like a puppy he is do you?” Ori’s laugh broke through and Bilbo allowed himself a smirk, “So Master Ori, what exactly was it Master Dwalin found you to cause you to squeal so happily in the study? “ He raised an eyebrow suggestively and Ori blushed again.

“You aren’t mad at Mister Dwalin for giving us things are you Master Baggins?” whispered Ori, Bilbo winced at how worried the young dwarf still sounded when he thought he had upset someone. He fiddled with his straps, freeing his pony from its saddle and his pack and settling it over one shoulder before he turned back to the nervous dwarf. He absent-mindedly tied the pony to a low hanging branch.

“Now Master Ori, none of that,” he chided gently prying fingers out of the hem of oversized knits. Drawing one of the dwarf’s hands through his crooked elbow, Bilbo patted it gently before steering them towards the glow of a camp fire, “I’m not mad at Master Dwalin, I was just wondering what had gotten you so excited.” He smiled softly across at Ori, biting his lip to stop a laugh when Ori realised he was actually at the same eye level as him, “Long story Master Ori, ask Master Dwalin.” 

The dwarf nodded and a small smile started to grow, “You really aren’t mad?” 

“I’m not mad at anyone, Master Ori I promise, now you were obviously waiting to see either myself or Master Dwalin so what can I help you with?” Bilbo smiled softly at the sly look that came into Ori’s eyes.

“Well you see Master Boggins, I had originally wanted to ask you something about one of the books I found in your study, but I didn’t want to interrupt a private moment.” Bilbo watched as the dwarf chewed his lip, nervous despite his mischief, “Are you and Mister Dwalin courting?”

Bilbo found himself choking on air momentarily, “Oh goddess no Master Ori. I will admit he is an attractive specimen of a male, but most definitely not courting.” He eyed the dwarf carefully, pulling them to a stop just outside the hearing range of most dwarves. He glanced around and pulled Ori over to sit on a nearby log, “Can I let you in on a secret Master Ori?” the dwarf beside him nodded, “Hobbits are rather tactile creatures as you’ve probably guessed Master Ori, and I know dwarves aren’t really huggers even inside the family group, close family members possibly, but cousins and the likes aren’t. It honestly killed me not to be able to hug Fili or Kili or yourself when Master Dori was explaining your past to me.”

Bilbo smiled sheepishly at the mousey-auburn haired dwarf. “So you see Master Dwalin is merely humouring me, and I probably go too far when I interact with him because I am over compensating with not being able to hug people or even sling an arm around their shoulders when I want.”

Ori nodded his face serious, “I sort of understand Master Baggins, it must be hard to change the way you act simply because the people you are travelling with don’t understand you mean nothing by it.” He smiled slyly at Bilbo, before pushing to his feet and Bilbo narrowed his eyes at the suddenly confident dwarf, “I still think Mister Dwalin might be more open to you being touchy feely with him then you think.” 

Bilbo knew he looked gormless but he couldn’t help but stare after Ori opened mouthed. The dwarf might be shy and nervous but he had a wicked sense of humour. Sighing he shouldered his pack again and wandered into the circle of firelight, mentally rolling his eyes as Thorin glowered at him he smiled sweetly at the royal dwarf. He glanced around the relaxing dwarves and noticing Dwalin was in deep conversation with his brother, flopped down in-between Fili and Kili. It was going to be a long journey if Master Oakenshield didn’t desist glaring, glowering or simply pouting. Bilbo eyed Ori across the roaring fire, the little minx was hanging over Nori’s shoulder and Bilbo would bet his supply of pipe weed that no matter how sweet the lad was he knew exactly what he was doing to Kili. Keeping his face clear of thoughts, Bilbo smiled sweetly up at Bofur when the be-hatted dwarf clattered across to provide stew to the Durin brothers and himself. It might be a long journey but between Fili and Kili’s reactions to the dwarves they had a crush on, it would be amusing.


	22. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ori acts in a scandalous manner.

_Chapter Twenty Two-camping. ___

The night was still young so none of the company made for their bed rolls after they had finished eating. Bilbo had progressed from sitting between the Durin brothers to having them using him as a cushion, he rolled his eyes as he cautiously fished his short pipe from the front pocket of his pack. Why they felt the need to lean on him when there was a perfectly good log behind them all he didn’t know, he supposed he should be happy that they were starting to relax around him enough to do so, but he really wanted a smoke. 

Sighing softly he nudged Kili in the ribs and got himself a pout and huge puppy dog eyes in response. “They don’t work on me Master Kili,” he grinned down at the dark haired dwarf who was now leaning against his knees, “I’ve spent my life around hobbit kits lad, so cute as you are you stand no chance.”

Feeling a weighted gaze on him Bilbo looked up, expecting to see Thorin glowering at him for sitting so close to his nephew. The royal dwarf was sitting with his back to them, and Bilbo cocked his head as he looked around the circle trying to figure out who else would have been staring at them in such a manner. Upon seeing no-one particularly paying attention he turned his attention back to the dark haired dwarf, biting back a laugh at the butterfly eyes the lad was now shooting at Ori. Carefully lowering his voice Bilbo leant in so he wouldn’t be over heard by a happily humming Fili. “Master Kili,” he hissed, “Why don’t you go sit with him?” Shocked black eyes flashed to him and Bilbo knew he was grinning, but he really couldn’t help it, Kili at least reacted in an expected manner. “Really Master Kili. I’m sure you must have something to talk to him about.” Forcing his face neutral Bilbo continued, “I mean the poor lad gets mothered by Dori, and corrupted by Nori, he probably needs a friend, after all it can’t be easy having no escape from those two all day…every day.”

Bilbo watched Kili pale, worried he’d pushed too far until the lad pushed to his feet and sauntered over to the Ri family. Sitting back with a sigh Bilbo filled his pipe from the pouch he kept in his now free pocket, “Smoke Master Fili?”

Dwalin was becoming really annoyed with the attitude of Thorin and Balin. The smug look on the wizard’s face wasn’t helping matters and so he decided to act the same age as they were and tuned out their scolding to watch Bilbo interact with his nephews. He had to bite back a laugh as he watched the hobbit easily manipulate Kili into sitting with the Ri family, before wondering how it was that he found humour in anyone being able to manipulate his family. He decided it was because he’d never seen any bad in Bilbo, in fact even Thorin’s usual attitude problem had only upset the hobbit. 

Dwalin leant back with a smile, ignoring the strange look being levelled at him by the wizard. “Bal.” That single word caught his brother’s attention, “Stop flapping I’m hardly a dwarfling that needs coddling.” He smiled at the light flush that stole up his older brother’s cheeks. 

Patting Thorin on the shoulder Dwalin pushed to his feet and wandered around the fire to where Bilbo was sitting. As the hobbit looked at him with a lazy smile Dwalin bit back a chuckle, “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Of course not Dwalin.” Bilbo’s lazy smile didn’t change and Dwalin decided to ignore Fili’s shocked gasp at the familiarities they were showing and flopped down beside the hobbit.

“Got a light?” he held his ready filled pipe out and Bilbo obliged carefully tipping a glowing ember into the rough cut bowl. 

Silence settled comfortably over them as dwarf and hobbit sat side by side smoking leisurely on their pipes. Fili grumbled something about leaving to give them room and wandered away, but other than Bilbo snorting slightly neither really gave much of a response. Dwalin followed Bilbo’s gaze to where Kili was trying to get a point across to a completely un-flapped Ori. The youngest Durin brother was wind-milling his arms around and blowing hair out of his face as he got himself more worked up. Ori’s move had Dwalin choking on his pipe and Kili freezing with a pretty blush rising up his cheeks. Bilbo rolled his eyes, really the lad had only brushed Kili’s fringe from his eyes. He met chocolate brown eyes and nodded with a small smirk. The smirk he got in response had him relaxing into Dwalin’s side and Bilbo started to blow smoke rings.

The hobbit leaning happily against his side distracted Dwalin from Ori’s unorthodox way of winning an argument. The smoke the rings the smaller male was forming had his competitive side rearing its head again. The next couple of hours were spent by the pair trying to outdo each other with the best smoke ring. Dwalin twitched when he felt Thorin’s heavy gaze on them, but Bilbo seemed oblivious.

Soon several of the dwarves were turning in for the night, and in the hustle of them setting up their bed rolls Dwalin grabbed Bilbo’s hand and pulled him away from the fireside. To Bilbo’s amusement they stopped by the same log he’d directed Ori to earlier and so he sat down with an amused look. Dwalin hovered over him until Bilbo grabbed a muscled forearm and pulled him to sit down. “What’s wrong Dwalin?” 

The concern in Bilbo’s softly accented Westron had Dwalin kicking himself for worrying the hobbit, “Nothing Bilbo, I just thought you might like to escape Thorin’s glower.” He got a delighted giggle in response before a sharp elbow dug into his side. 

“I thought you were going to talk to him?” The slight disappointment in Bilbo’s voice made Dwalin feel like an idiot.

“I did honestly, but he is being stubborn, that’s why I left him with Balin, my brother will hopefully be able to talk some sense into him,” Dwalin could feel Bilbo relaxing into his side as he spoke, feeling bold he draped an arm around the slender shoulders. He couldn’t hide his grin when Bilbo merely shifted closer with a gentle sigh. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about as well Bilbo.” Dwalin paused wondering if the hobbit would push away, but all he got was a tap on the knee indicating he should keep talking. He glanced down and was amused to see the green-hazel eyes closed and a small smile tugging at full lips. “I found several sheets of parchment when I was going through those chests at Bag End,” he paused waiting for a response and when Bilbo merely hummed rolled his own eyes. “I gave them to Ori to study after I read them I hope you don’t mind.” He was shot a glare and smiled innocently down at Bilbo, “I wasn’t saying anything as such, I’m not that stupid. I actually only said that to warn you when the laddie starts to ask thousands of questions.” The green-hazel eyes twinkled at him in amusement and Dwalin felt his lips twitch, “I wanted to ask where you learnt to write Khazdul?” 

Bilbo pushed away from Dwalin and looked carefully into grey eyes, there didn’t seem to be any anger or blame there so he decided to answer as honestly as he could without telling too much of his past, after all he thought, the dwarves of the company had been through enough. “I pretty much taught myself Dwalin,” he smiled wryly, “I can read it as well.” He got a nod in response, but didn’t expand instead choosing to snuggle deeper into the dwarf’s side. Besides several things Ori had said were tugging at the back of his mind.

Dwalin hummed as Bilbo tucked himself back into his side, there were thousands of questions running through his brain but he didn’t know how to phrase any of them without offending Bilbo. He wanted to ask just where the hobbit had found the means to teach himself, but that would seem like he didn’t believe Bilbo’s words. A gentle whisper caught his attention and he turned to look down at the hobbit snuggled into his side. A warm smile split his face and his grey eyes crinkled deeply at the corners. He scooped the sleeping hobbit into his arms and softly made his way back into the circle of firelight. He nodded at Ori who seemed to have been chosen for first watch and raised an eyebrow when he realised the rest of the company were already asleep. They must have sat longer in silence than he had thought. Shrugging to himself Dwalin set Bilbo down on the hobbit’s sleeping mat, distantly wondering who had set it out. It was laid between Fili and Ori so he didn’t fuss too much. Watching to smaller male shiver in his sleep, Dwalin laid his cloak over him without thinking and still awake wandered to sit beside Ori.

Bilbo was awoken the next morning by the sound of giggling and he pulled his blankets over his head, waking with a start when a familiar yet strange scent filled his nose. He sat up carefully, wincing as protesting muscles clamoured for his attention. He cricked his neck and raised an eyebrow at a sniggering Fili and Kili, “Can I help you boys with something?” he asked sweetly. 

Their laughter increased and Bilbo decided that playing it calm was his best idea, “Really, is it not too early to be giggling like a pair of kits?” They merely laughed at him and he pushed to his feet, meeting Dwalin’s grey eyes across the camp as he did. Not many people were awake and Bilbo set about packing his bed roll up. He wasn’t stupid, he’d realised he must have fallen asleep on the dwarf but by his reckoning that made them equal. Deciding not to show his slight embarrassment that he had been carried to bed and tucked in he carefully folded Dwalin’s cloak across his arm after setting his sleeping roll by his pack. 

“Dwalin,” he called cheerfully, smirking at the sleep ruffled grumbles coming from the still sleeping dwarves. “Good Morning.” He handed the folded cloak back, “Thank you for last night, I hope you weren’t too cold.” The grey eyes crinkled at him and he patted the muscled forearm, before jerking his head at the still glowing embers of the fire. “Why don’t you get that going properly and I’ll start breakfast.”

When the rest of the company managed to wake themselves up properly they were greeted with a hot breakfast, two pouting Durin princes, a giggling Dwalin and a filthily smirking Bilbo. All bar Ori rubbed their eyes and decided their sleepy eyes were playing jokes on them. The travel that day was full of laughter and songs as the company took advantage of travelling through the peaceful lands of the Shire. Shortly after noon Bilbo gave in to the combined urging of Fili, Kili, Ori and Bofur. His sweet lilting Westron was heard hanging in the air,

 _“Upon the hearth the fire is red, ___  
_Beneath the roof there is a bed; ___  
_But not yet weary are our feet, ___  
_Still round the corner we may meet ___  
_A sudden tree or standing stone ___  
_That none have seen but we alone. ___  
_Tree and flower and leaf and grass, ___  
_Let them pass! Let them pass! ___  
_Hill and water under sky, ___  
_Pass them by! Pass them by! __  
_Still round the corner there may wait _  
_A new road or a secret gate, _  
_And though we pass them by today, _  
_Tomorrow we may come this way _  
_And take the hidden paths that run _  
_Towards the Moon or to the Sun. _  
_Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,,i >  
_Let them go! Let them go! _  
_Sand and stone and pool and dell, _  
_Fare you well! Fare you well! _  
_Home is behind, the world ahead, _  
_And there are many paths to tread _  
_Through shadows to the edge of night, _  
_Until the stars are all alight. _  
_Then world behind and home ahead, _  
_We'll wander back to home and bed. _  
_Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, _  
_Away shall fade! Away shall fade! _  
_Fire and lamp, and meat and bread, _  
_And then to bed! And then to bed!” (1) _________________________________________

Silence followed his song as dwarf and wizard alike stared at him. Dwalin watched as a rosy blush stole up Bilbo’s cheeks and dropped his pony back so they were walking side by side. “That was rather special Bilbo,” he whispered, reaching out for Bilbo’s hand and entwining their fingers. Bilbo smiled across at him and Dwalin felt an answering blush start under his beard.

"Thank you Dwalin," breathed Bilbo so quietly that Dwalin had to lean in to hear him. Bilbo squeezed his battle worn fingers, “Thank you.” 

The moment was broken by Fili, “But where did he learn to sing with such emotion Mister Bofur?” 

Dwalin and Bilbo looked at each other before bursting into slightly hysterical laughter, once again Bilbo’s bell like laugh entwined with Dwalin’s rolling rumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Walking Song is the name given to the song that Frodo Baggins, Peregrin Took, and Sam Gamgee are singing just before they see the Black Rider a second time while walking to Crickhollow. Bilbo Baggins wrote the lyrics to an old tune. I didn’t think it up…I’m not that good.


	23. Travelling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo is annoyed at Thorin.

_Chapter Twenty Four – Travelling. ___

Bilbo declined to sing for the company again for several days claiming he needed to get used to the rigours of travel. He remained un-swayed despite pleading now including Bombur and Nori. He was glad when Dwalin swung a heavily armoured arm over his shoulders and growled at the persistent dwarves the second night in. He did elbow the dwarf lightly as a reprimand, but the blinding smile he accompanied it with took any sting from the action. 

Dwalin’s behaviour was watched with suspicious eyes, most of the company having forgave Master Baggins for his, as they had decided that he didn’t have any idea about where their boundaries lay. Dwalin’s actions were beyond what even courting couples were allowed in public, but as Dori looked between the guardsman and the hobbit he realised that to Bilbo they were the normal for everyday interactions. A glance at his younger brother confirmed the fact to him, Ori was watching the two with soft understanding in his brown eyes. Dori nodded his head decisively, he would have quiet words with the older dwarves of the group and get Ori to do the same with the younger five. He frowned slightly, until he could do so he would have to give them all a distraction. A smile graced his lips, instantly making him appear several decades younger. 

“Now lads, leave our burglar alone,” he called happily. Ori’s head whipped around so the younger Ri brother could narrow eyes at him in suspicion. “Don’t give me that look Ori, it’s not proper,” Dori chuckled, “Now I don’t have Master Baggins’ fine voice, but there was a time when you didn’t mind listening to me sing.” Deciding to ignore the almost silent snort from Nori (especially as his younger brother moved stealthily to sit by Ori as he did it) Dori continued. “If you give the poor lad a chance to get used to travelling I will sing some of your favourites for you.” He smiled widely as Fili, Kili and Bofur turned their attention fully to him. Dori threw them a wink, “I might even try some new ones I’ve heard.” Dori felt himself flush as Bilbo sent him a brilliant smile in thanks, and even Dwalin crinkled his eyes at him across the fire. “Right where should I start?” 

The clamour of young voices made him blink, he hadn’t realised the lads had missed him sitting and singing to them. Even Nori was looking towards him with a kind of excited expectation. It wasn’t until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder that Dori realised several of the older dwarves were also requesting songs. He smiled as Bifur managed to squeeze in between Nori and Fili, and Gloin moved so he was sitting on a tree stump nearby. 

Balin’s voice startled him though, “If I may lad?” Dori turned his head to look up at the white haired dwarf. Balin was smiling softly at him, “Perhaps you could sing us ‘The Wind’ Mister Dori?” the steel haired dwarf felt a light blush settle over his features.

“Mister Balin, just how many of you listened to me sing to the young ones?” he gulped.

Balin smiled softly at him, “Most of us at some point, although I will admit to sitting in the shadows and listening to you more than most,” Dori thought he could see a light blush on Balin’s cheeks, “You have a lovely voice lad.” Balin seemed to shake himself and Dori smiled back, “Now will you sing it for me Mister Dori?”

Dori’s smile became a grin and he nodded his head, “Aye Mister Balin I will. It would be a pleasure.” Clearing his throat Dori turned back to the waiting dwarves. He smiled at Nori who was almost vibrating where he sat, remembering it had been his brother’s favourite rhyme. Taking a deep breath Dori let his rich baritone flow around the clearing where they had made camp. 

_“The wind was on the withered heath,_  
But in the forest stirred no leaf:  
There shadows lay by night and day,  
And dark things silent crept beneath. __

_____The wind came down from mountains cold,_  
And like a tide it roared and rolled;  
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,  
And leaves were laid upon the mould. __

_________The wind went on from West to East;  
All movement in the forest ceased,  
But shrill and harsh across the marsh  
Its whistling voices were released. ___

___________The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,  
The reeds were rattling-on it went  
O’er shaken pool under the heavens cool  
Where racing clouds were torn and rent. ____ _

_____________It passed the lonely Mountain bare  
And swept above the dragon's lair:  
There black and dark lay boulders stark  
And flying smoke was in the air. ____ _ _ _

_______________It left the world and took its flight  
Over the wide seas of the night.  
The moon set sail upon the gale,  
And stars were fanned to leaping light.” (1) ____ _ _ _ _ _

____________Dori opened his eyes wondering just when he’d closed them and found Bilbo and Dwalin had joined with the group on the floor. Dwalin’s arm was around Bilbo’s waist and the hobbit had entwined their fingers, green-hazel eyes were staring at him in awe while Dwalin’s steel grey eyes were soft and suspiciously moist. Ori was leaning heavily into Kili’s side and while the dark haired Durin heir had a light blush on his face he was making no move to push the small dwarf away, both looking to much like the wee lads who had sat at his knee days after they had arrived in Ered Luin. Bofur was grinning up at him, unabashed happiness on his cheerful face, Master Fili was sitting crossed legged next to the miner his hand resting lightly on Bofur’s arm and also smiling at him. Nori and Bifur’s eyes were sparkling in the starlight, but that was the only outward sign they had enjoyed the song, Dori would admit to being impressed that either had sat through the song and was strangely touched.____________

Balin’s hand grabbed his shoulder again and he smiled up at the white haired dwarf momentarily before pushing to his feet feeling his back pop as he did, “I hope it lived up to memory Mister Balin.” Dori’s smile widened at Balin’s soft chuckle, “Now if you all don’t mind it’s been a long day and I’m not getting any younger,” Balin’s snort had him chuckling, “Ah now Mister Balin it’s the truth and I’ve never been a warrior like yourself, I’m going to turn in, you strong fighting types can stay up as late as you want.” He shot the white haired dwarf a wink and turned to his bed roll with Balin’s laugh sounding in his ears. 

____________From that night on the company took turns in offering a tune or story. Ori went the next night, a day spent in the company of Kili seemed to have done his confidence wonders thought Dori as he leant back to listen to his brother’s laughing tone float around the shrub land._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________“There is an inn, a merry old inn  
Beneath an old grey hill,  
And there they brew a beer so brown  
That the Man in the Moon himself came down  
On night to drink his fill. ____ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________The ostler has a tipsy cat  
That plays a five-stringed fiddle;  
And up and down he runs his bow,  
Now squeaking high, now purring low,  
Now sawing in the middle. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________The landlord keeps a little dog  
That is mighty fond of jokes;  
When there's good cheer among the guests  
He cocks an ear at all the jests  
And laughs until he chokes. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________________They also keep a horned cow  
As proud as any queen;  
But music turns her head like ale,  
And makes her wave her tufted tail  
And dance upon the green.” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________To Dori’s amusement Fili and Kili dug their fiddles from their packs and joined in at the mention of their instrument, playing a merry tune to accompany his brother. He also watched as Ori’s eyes fixed on Kili’s form dancing around the fire, he chuckled. Well, he wished them luck. He was distracted form his thoughts as Ori started again,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________“And O! The rows of silver dishes  
And the store of silver spoons!  
For Sunday there's a special pair,  
And these they polish up with care  
On Saturday afternoons. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________________The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,  
And the cat began to wail;  
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,  
The cow in the garden madly pranced,  
And the little dog chased his tail. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________________The Man in the Moon took another mug,  
And then rolled beneath his chair;  
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,  
Till in the sky the stars were pale,  
And dawn was in the air. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________________________Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:  
"The white horses of the Moon,  
They neigh and champ their silver bits:  
But their master's been and drowned his wits,  
And the Sun will be rising soon!" ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Nori and Bofur took up the tune on their pipe and hand pipe respectively and Bilbo found his feet twitching in anticipation of a dance. He tucked them under his body and leant into Dwalin’s side, it wouldn’t do for the young ones to realise his plea of needing time to adjust to travelling was a ruse. Ori had stuttered when he was joined by yet more musicians, but the grins thrown to him by Kili bolstered his confidence again and so he continued. Now up on his feet he tapped a rhythm out with his booted feet as he continued to the end of the childish song._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________________“So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,  
A jig that would wake the dead:  
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,  
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:  
It's after three! He said. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________________________They rolled the Man slowly up the hill  
And bundled him into the Moon,  
While his horses galloped up in rear,  
And the cow came capering like a deer,  
And a dish ran up with the spoon. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________________________Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;  
The dog began to roar,  
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;  
The guests all bounded from their beds  
And danced upon the floor. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________________________________With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!  
The cow jumped over the Moon,  
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,  
And the Saturday dish went off at a run  
With the silver Sunday spoon. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________________________The round Moon rolled behind the hill,  
As the Sun raised up her head.  
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;  
For though it was day, to her surprise  
They all went back to bed!”(2) ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________He finished with a flourish, and bowed deeply to the hollers and applause that followed his song. A light flush dusted his cheeks and he grinned happily as a panting Kili flung a friendly arm around his shoulders._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________To Dwalin’s amusement they seemed to have settled into a pattern of song and storytelling after dinner had been served. As neither Thorin nor Gandalf put paid to the fun Dwalin decided to let it continue, merely setting himself up for first watch as the company entertained themselves. He had been delighted when Bilbo had joined him on the first night although he hadn’t failed to notice the twitch when the music had started._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________The second night he merely huffed and leant back against a tree stump to allow Bilbo to curl into his side. Gloin was standing in the middle of a circle of dwarves, his deep rolling voice cascading through a battle poem. Dwalin closed his eyes momentarily, lost in memories until a gentle had closed on his and he looked into the equally sad eyes of Bilbo. Grumbling he tucked the hobbit closer and lit their pipes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________The third night they had sat at different points on a fallen, standing stone. Dwalin leant against Bilbo’s legs and savoured the feel of gentle hands rubbing soothing circles on the back of his neck. Their supper bowls sat empty beside them as Oin told a funny anecdote about mushrooms. At least Dwalin assumed it was funny as Bilbo’s bright peal of laughter rewarded the healer when he was done. The dwarf had come across and clapped Bilbo on the shoulder later when the time to swap shifts occurred._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________The fourth night in and Dwalin was twitchy expecting something to have gone wrong by now, after all they had been outside of the Shire’s boundaries and so in dangerous lands. Gandalf had joined in that night and he was telling the story of the creation of the hobbit race. Dwalin glanced at a stiffly sitting Bilbo, wondering if he should put a stop to the sharing of another race’s secrets. It wasn’t until Bilbo leant into his side muttering about idiot wizards and their inability to remember facts that he realised Bilbo wasn’t upset with them knowing the story just with the wizard getting facts wrong. He leant heavily back on his hands, feeling the leaf mould beneath his fingers, “Bilbo,” he rumbled softly, turning green-hazel eyes to his and gulping he smiled, “You know your creator and our creator were married?”______________________________________

Bilbo’s bright laugh broke the wizard’s tale and he pouted at the hobbit while Bilbo merely smirked at him, “Get your facts right next time Grey One.” The laugher of the company hid their true interest in what they had been told, and Dwalin tucked Bilbo closer to his side at the curious looks sent their way. 

______________________________________The next night they camped at the ancient human strong hold of Facere Fortis, a fancy name for a few crumbling walls and natural caves at the pinnacle of a hill. Dwalin’s growl at Fili and Kili when they teased Bilbo about orcs was drowned out by Thorin. “You think this is funny?” Dwalin watched as the prince strode up to his nephews. “You think a night raid by orcs is a laughing matter?”______________________________________

Dwalin watched as Thorin strode to the edge of the hill and looked out into the night before turning his attention back to Bilbo. To his surprise despite the obvious fear and hurt lingering in the expressive eyes he had moved to stand behind Fili and Kili a reassuring hand on each of the lads’ shoulders as he glowered across the air at Thorin’s back. 

______________________________________“Well oh gracious prince!” Dwalin was shocked at the bitterness in the hobbits lilting Westron, “You should be glad the young ones don’t have that fear,” Dwalin stepped forward aiming to reach the hobbit until Balin’s hand on his arm stopped him. He glanced at his brother who indicated to him to wait and watch. He did just that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________Bilbo was drawn up to his full height and easily staring down the shocked Thorin. He was clearly supporting the two crestfallen Durin brothers and taking in their kicked-puppy expression, Dwalin understood why. He turned his own glare on Thorin, Bilbo was right it was better the lads didn’t know and he’d prefer it to stay that way._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________Bilbo’s voice cut harshly through the night. “You think you are the only one who has had it hard Thorin Oakenshield. You think you are the only one who has seen just what a night raid by orcs can do?” His voice instead of getting higher pitched, had reached an almost growl and more than Dwalin stiffened their spines. Although he noticed Fili and Kili had drawn further back against the hobbit’s chest, and the lad was running soothing hands through their hair. Ori had crept so he was hidden behind Bilbo and Nori and Bofur were huddled unhappily with the small dwarf.______________________________________

Bilbo continued over what was obviously going to be Thorin’s reply. “I don’t care Master Oakenshield. You will not talk to the young ones like that.” 

Dwalin watched as the expressive eyes became dark, “I made a promise to Master Dori to protect his brother and I extended that protection to Fili and Kili as well. If that means protecting them from your fits of temper then so be it!” 

The growl was still there and Dwalin swallowed, Bilbo wasn’t shaking this time and Dwalin had a moment to wonder just when Bilbo had seen an orc attack before the hobbit was lashing out verbally at the prince again. “Really Oakenshield, you think the lads were being flippant?” Bilbo’s eyes flashed dangerously, “They could see I was worried and in their own way they were trying to protect me.” 

______________________________________Standing there with his arms wrapped around the shoulders of the youngest of the company, the next three youngest hidden in his shadow Bilbo looked capable of holding his promise, weapons training or no.______________________________________

Dwalin turned desperately to his brother and Balin nodded, “Don’t mind him laddie,” Bilbo relaxed not one jot as Balin’s soothing lilt flowed over him he merely raised an eye brow and Balin sighed, “Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs.” At Bilbo nodding stiffly to his brother Dwalin sighed, he hoped his big brother would be able to talk this down. “After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria.” 

______________________________________Dwalin must have gasped along with Oin for Bilbo looked at them sharply and held up a hand stopping Balin in his story telling. He pushed Fili and Kili to sit with Nori, Ori and Bofur, where they were instantly pulled into the middle of the group, before striding over to Oin. He crouched to look in the seated dwarf’s eyes before pulling the healer back to the group of young dwarves. To Dwalin’s surprise it was Nori who shifted so the older dwarf could sit in the middle of the group. He missed Bilbo gesturing wildly at Bifur and the badger like dwarf sitting beside the thief and placing a comforting arm around his shoulder. Then Bilbo was at his side, pulling him across to sit with the other and planting himself firmly in Dwalin’s lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around Bilbo’s stomach and buried his head in his neck.______________________________________

Bilbo glowered up at Balin, eyes softening slightly as he saw Dori place a reassuring hand on the white haired dwarf’s shoulder, “Please continue Master Balin.” 

______________________________________“Very well.” Balin cleared his throat and straightened his spine, “Our enemy had got their first. Mori had been taken by legions of orcs, led by the most-vile of all their race…Azog the Defiler! The giant Gundabad orc. The very one who had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the king. Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief! He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless! Defeat and death were upon us! That is when I saw him…A young dwarf prince, facing down the pale orc…he stood alone against this terrible foe! His armour rent, wielding nothing but an oaken-branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler, learnt that day, that the line of Durin…would not be so easily broken.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________Bilbo stroked a soothing hand over a shaking Dwalin’s hair as Balin finished the story. He took in the deep shadows in the dwarf’s eyes and heard the break in his voice. He nodded shortly and tried to keep his voice quiet, and yet still managed to cut off whatever Balin was going to say, “My apologises then Master Balin, but it still gave him no right to talk to his nephews in that manner.”______________________________________

He held a hand up, sighing, “I am sorry you felt the need to have to recount what was obviously a dreadful time for you to try and convince me, but what Master Oakenshield needs to realise is he is not the only one to have lost family to orcs.” 

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo wrapped his arms around a still shaking Dwalin, “Obviously more than one member of the company have done so. Poor Master Bifur nearly lost himself, and it is a monument to his courage and dedication to his family that he fought his way back. If anyone here has a reason to hate orcs I would say it was him. Yourself, Dwalin and Master Oin have obviously suffered greatly with your own losses.”

Bilbo could see Thorin’s shoulders stiffen further with anger as he spoke, but pushed on regardless. He kept stormy eyes on Balin’s sad ones and spoke softly, “Masters Bofur and Bombur, while they may not have seen it happen nearly lost their cousin, why should they have a lesser reason to hate orcs? Masters Fili and Kili, although they may not remember the people themselves, lost family. I can bet they lost more than the dead that day. Have you or Dwalin ever been the same? Has Thorin ever treated them with love since?” he raised an eyebrow as behind Balin Thorin’s shoulders dropped in defeat. 

______________________________________Bilbo steeled himself and hoped they wouldn’t dwell too much on what he was going to tell them. Balin’s offering needed some response of trust in return. “I lost both my parents in the Fell winter. My mother was torn apart by rider-less wolves and my father was murdered by orc-cowards. I wasn’t of age and I found my mother’s body been fought over by the wolves and my father died in my arms.”______________________________________

He kept his gaze steady on Balin’s grey eyes. “I think we should get what little sleep we can tonight and brush it under the rug. It will not do any of us any good to dwell on it.” With Balin’s nod, Bilbo turned his face so he could bury it in the thick fur of Dwalin’s shoulder pads. 

______________________________________No dwarf moved that night, instead the pile in the shelter of the rock grew as the company united by grief, curled together leaving the wizard on watch._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)/(2) Poems by J.R.Tolkien. I don’t own them


	24. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it rains.

_Chapter Twenty Five – Rain. ___

The next day dawned and it was a group of subdued and grumpy dwarves who started back out on their journey. Bilbo himself was silent seemingly drawing into himself. Few had paid much attention to his addmition the previous night and for that he was glad. He needed to be strong for the youngsters and Dwalin, he wouldn’t be able to do that if they started to question him. His request that they stop for the day in mid-afternoon was met with a tired glare by Thorin, before the dwarf agreed and soon they were eating a hastily prepared stew.

Bilbo currently had a lap full of Fili and Kili, so was free to pay close attention to the rest of the company. Dwalin and Balin were slumped together seemingly lost in memories, Oin was sitting by his brother staring into nothingness. Ori had not left his brothers’ sides for the journey and was now anchoring them to him by the simplicity of grabbing a handful of their clothes. Nori had accepted this and was currently curled around his younger brother, hiding his face in the mousey-auburn hair. Dori was attempting to keep up his usual brisk demeanour, but Bilbo could see the cracks appearing. Bofur and Bombur were fussing over Bifur, who was by that point glowering sulkily across at him. Bilbo winced and offered an apologetic smile, getting an eye roll in response.

Deciding enough was enough Bilbo pushed Fili and Kili to their feet and steered them around to Dwalin and Balin. When the lads had latched onto their uncles he went and physically dragged Thorin to sit with his relatives. His actions caught the attention of Bofur who stopped fussing his cousin to look questionly at him. 

Bilbo grabbed his arm and dragged him slightly away from the group. “We can’t sit and dwell Master Bofur, It will just depress us and make us less aware of the dangers around us.” 

Bofur nodded and smiled softly, he knew what he could do. He strode back to the camp and rummaged in his bag for his hand pipe. He glanced around and smirked at Nori, tiptoeing over to prod the other dwarf in the back of the head. Nori’s yelp had Ori laughing loudly and releasing his grip on his brothers. Having the thief’s full attention Bofur waggled his hand pipe. Nori’s grin was rather amusing and the two sat down by the low fire. Bofur started to sing, Nori’s pipe the only music. He launched into a song, making the lyrics up as he went along, glad Nori was on a similar wave length, 

“In the land of Middle Earth, in the land of the Shire,  
There’s a brave little hobbit who we all admire,  
With his long wooden pipe, fuzzy woolly toes,  
Lives in a hobbit hole and everybody knows him.  
Bilbo, Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!  
Only three feet tall!  
Bilbo, Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!  
The bravest little hobbit of them all!”(1)

By the end of the song he had Fili, Kili and Ori joining in the chorus and Bofur stood to take a bow amidst the laughter of the company. Bilbo smiled grimly at him and Bofur didn’t have a chance to dodge when an apple hit him square in the forehead. “Idiot,” Bilbo grumbled at him, “Now they will all sing it forever,” he huffed smiling at the be-hatted dwarf to show he was secretly please. Bofur grinned back and flung his arm around Fili’s shoulder making the blonde blush deeply. Bilbo lost it and his laugh joined in the deep rumbles of the dwarves’.

Barriers broken the company took up singing again after that. The seventh night Nori introduced them to a risqué song he’d heard on his travels. A song that had the company blushing and Bilbo falling over in laughter where he sat. Nori watched as Bilbo whispered the explanation to Dwalin and chuckled himself as the warrior’s blush deepened to a dark red. 

The eight night Bilbo once again took a turn, enthralling them all (yes even Thorin) with the elvish tale of Beren and Luthien. 

_The leaves were long, the grass was green,_  
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,  
And in the glade a light was seen  
Of stars in shadow shimmering.  
Tinúviel was dancing there  
To music of a pipe unseen,  
And light of stars was in her hair,  
And in her raiment glimmering. __

_____There Beren came from mountains cold,_  
And lost he wandered under leaves,  
And where the Elven-river rolled  
He walked alone and sorrowing.  
He peered between the hemlock-leaves  
And saw in wonder flowers of gold  
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,  
And her hair like shadow following. __

_________Enchantment healed his weary feet_  
That over hills were doomed to roam;  
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,  
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.  
Through woven woods in Elvenhome  
She lightly fled on dancing feet,  
And left him lonely still to roam  
In the silent forest listening. __

_____________He heard there oft the flying sound_  
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,  
Or music welling underground,  
In hidden hollows quavering.  
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,  
And one by one with sighing sound  
Whispering fell the beachen leaves  
In the wintry woodland wavering. __

_________________He sought her ever, wandering far_  
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,  
By light of moon and ray of star  
In frosty heavens shivering.  
Her mantle glinted in the moon,  
As on a hill-top high and far  
She danced, and at her feet was strewn  
A mist of silver quivering. __

_____________________When winter passed, she came again,_  
And her song released the sudden spring,  
Like rising lark, and falling rain,  
And melting water bubbling.  
He saw the elven-flowers spring  
About her feet, and healed again  
He longed by her to dance and sing  
Upon the grass untroubling. __

_________________________Again she fled, but swift he came.  
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!  
He called her by her elvish name;  
And there she halted listening.  
One moment stood she, and a spell  
His voice laid on her: Beren came,  
And doom fell on Tinúviel  
That in his arms lay glistening. ___

___________________________As Beren looked into her eyes  
Within the shadows of her hair,  
The trembling starlight of the skies  
He saw there mirrored shimmering.  
Tinúviel the elven-fair,  
Immortal maiden elven-wise,  
About him cast her shadowy hair  
And arms like silver glimmering. ____ _

_____________________________Long was the way that fate them bore,  
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,  
Through halls of ireon and darkling door,  
And woods of nightshade morrowless.  
The Sundering Seas between them lay,  
And yet at last they met once more,  
And long ago they passed away  
In the forest singing sorrowless.”(2) ____ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The ninth night Dwalin decided to try his hand, his ballad of a warrior and scribe gained him a hug from Bilbo, and later when the rest of the company were distracted another kiss to his cheek…for his bravery at his choice of song. If Dwalin then spent the rest of the night blushing the rest of the company chose not to comment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The tenth night Fili stood and recited several short limericks. He flushed rosily as he remember where he’d heard some of them. But bar Nori’s knowing look and Bilbo’s mildly gleeful dance no one said anything._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Bifur sighed noisily the eleventh night and pouted at Bilbo until he sat beside him and sung a Shire drinking song, switching the lyrics so it could include the company. Bifur’s joy at his own name being included got him a hug from the badger like dwarf, a hug he returned happily before wandering off to again sit by Dwalin._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The twelfth night Bombur enthralled them all with a song about food, its fast pace and bouncing rhythm had Fili and Kili staring at the rotund dwarf in awe._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The thirteenth night Kili finally drummed up enough bravery to give it a go himself. He sang almost sweetly for a dwarf, his voice wavering and unsure. His dark eyes never left Ori causing the smaller dwarf to blush lightly. Bilbo didn’t understand the words, but from the kiss he glimpsed Ori plant on Kili’s brilliantly red cheek later he decided it was a love song. He smiled at the two and happily gave his space on the log so they could sit together._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The next day it began to rain badly and when they made camp soggy and cold no one had the desire to tell a story or sing. Bilbo muttered grumpily from under his oilcloth, where he was hidden under the boughs of a tree beside Dwalin. No one even raised an eyebrow as they curled up together seeking some form of heat after the soaking they’d had all day, they were all too busy doing so themselves. Bilbo had enough good humour left to smile softly at the pile of bodies Fili, Kili, Ori and Bofur had made under another tree.__________________

The rain continued the next morning and as Bilbo sat on his soggy pony he wondered just who they had pissed off. Dwalin was riding by his side in silence while ahead Bofur was pouring water from his pipe again. When they stopped for the night and Nori’s yelp filled the darkness Bilbo had enough compassion left to help the dwarf from his pony. He guided the limping dwarf to Bifur who managed to cut the leather trousers the thief wore away from one leg before sprinting for Oin and gesturing wildly, talking at the top of his voice. Bilbo dug the last of the cookies from his pack and handed them to a shaken and sore Nori, along with a spare pair of loose woollen trousers. The thief had grinned at him before curling up into Bifur’s side, his face glowing red as the other dwarf fussed. When the rain continued the next day even Bilbo’s patience was gone. 

__________________He heard Dori’s voice from the back of the line, “Can’t you do something about this dratted weather Master Gandalf?” He had to bite back a chuckle as the cultured dwarf tried to keep his voice level despite his annoyance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Any desire to laugh disappeared with Gandalf’s answer and he turned to the wizard, “Are there any?” he realised he sounded quite sharp but currently didn’t care._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Dwalin’s attention was drawn to the hobbit riding behind him at the question and he listened carefully to the wizard’s answer. He nearly groaned out loud when he discovered there were actually five meddlesome wizards out in the world.__________________

“Is he a great wizard? Or more like you?” Bilbo’s sassy answer had Dwalin biting the insides of his cheeks to stop himself laughing. From the shaking of Thorin’s shoulders in front of him Dwalin figured the prince found the hobbit’s answer amusing also. He didn’t have long to dwell as Bilbo urged his pony forward to ride beside him. He looked innocently back at Bilbo’s questioning glance, “What he deserved it.” 

Dwalin chuckled and passed his lit pipe to Bilbo, who accepted eagerly, his own stubbornly refusing to even light in the rain. “I mean really, he could at least offer to make us slightly more water proof or even light a fire at night, but nooooo if we want anything of any use we have to find another wizard.” 

__________________Dwalin chuckled swaying slightly in his saddle as he leant to pat Bilbo on the shoulder, leaving the hand there after he had done so. “There, there Bilbo, we can’t all have your common sense.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He was rewarded with a laugh, “If I’d had any common sense Dwalin I’d be nice and snug in Bag End.” Dwalin went to withdraw his hand but Bilbo caught it, “Bah Dwalin! I’m here not there, and bar the rain and sad stories I’m quiet enjoying it.” He squeezed Dwalin’s hand before releasing it and Dwalin moved it to drop heavily on his own leg._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It was a nice thing you did for poor Mister Nori last night Bilbo,” he whispered and got another smile in response._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Despite Dwalin’s distractions Bilbo was quite glad when they stopped for the night. The rain had stopped two hours before and Thorin had somehow managed to find them a burnt down farm house to shelter in if it came back. Gloin had worked his magic and a fire was crackling merrily beneath a pot of stew. He’d shrugged out of his soaked oilskin, jacket and trousers caring little for the scandalised gasps of his travelling companions. His shirt was only mildly damp so he left it on and pulled dry trousers, waist coat and jacket on. He turned to find the rest of the company had slipped to their packs and had their faces buried in them. Dwalin was glowing a rosy red and Bilbo thought back to Ori’s comment on the first night of the journey. He cocked his head at the guardsman a mischievous smile on his face as he considered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Oh I’m sorry lads,” he forced his face blank and face innocent, “I forgot you are a bit more reserved than hobbits, I just really wanted to be out of my wet gear.”__________________

An idea hit him and he hummed carefully litting his voice so that others would think they were eavesdropping, “Can I ask why they haven’t took a change of clothes behind a bush or something to get changed, no one will look and it would save them standing around in soggy gear.” The shuffling behind him told Bilbo dwarves were actually doing what he suggested and he leant closer to Bombur, “Get yourself away and do the same.” The large dwarf nodded and when Bilbo looked up he found himself alone at the farmhouse with Dwalin. 

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________The dwarf was watching him carefully and in the setting sun his hair seemed to glow, Bilbo swallowed, “Are you not leaving to change Dwalin?” he asked softly, at the head shake he got in response, Bilbo smiled, rolled his eyes and turned back to the pot. He heard a shuffling behind him and resisted the urge to turn around. He bent his head to the stew his own cheeks rosy now, but those he could blame on the heat from the pot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Balin was the first dwarf back and his shocked voice echoed off the fallen walls, “Brother did you get changed here?!” he managed to hit a surprisingly high pitched note for a dwarf and Bilbo turned around in awe._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Then he looked carefully at Dwalin, “I thought you said you weren’t getting changed?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Dwalin looked up from where he was rummaging in his pack and raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t actually say anything, besides you weren’t looking and I couldn’t be bothered to walk anywhere.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Bilbo could hear the unspoken words of trust and so merely nodded, gesturing with the ladle to Dwalin’s pack and taking his cue from the dwarf with how to treat Balin’s surprise, “What ya doing?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Dwalin merely showed him a length of rope in response and when Bilbo started giggling, dragged Balin to help him hang it between two posts. Still ignoring his brother Dwalin returned to scoop up Bilbo’s wet gear and his own. He soon had them draped over the rope and Balin shaking himself from his shock copied with his own gear. As the dwarves returned they did the same, before Bombur returned to the cooking._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Bilbo eyed where Thorin and Gandalf were hissing at each other in the farm house with groan. When the wizard stormed away he rolled his eyes and stretched beside Dwalin with two bowls of stew. He handed one to the dwarf with a grunt and set to eating his own. He looked around, Fili and Kili were with the ponies and someone would have to take them food later, but right now he was not moving. He placed his empty bowl on the ground and stretched his arm above his head. He was comfortable and Dwalin was a warm weight to one side. His thoughts back on the dwarf he turned to look at him from under his eyelashes. Dwalin had placed his own bowl on the ground and was leaning against the wall attempting to light his pipe. Bilbo took it from his with gentle hands and laid it carefully beside him on the ground. Dwalin’s grey eyes now fixed on him and he smiled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Thank you Dwalin,” he smiled softly leaning in so their foreheads rested together. “Thank you for showing you trust me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He got a rumble in response and a weapon callused hand soothed over his bare cheek. Dwalin was the one to draw back slightly this time and smiled softly. Bilbo gasped as the dwarf’s other hand curled around his jaw.__________________

“No thank you Bilbo,” Dwalin’s voice warmed him better than the fire or stew had done and Bilbo’s face became softer. “Thank you for trusting me, thank you for caring about my family, thank you for caring about me.” He leant closer and Bilbo felt his heart rate speed up, the dwarf’s eyes were fixed on his lips and Bilbo knew he’d have to thank Ori later. 

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Master Baggins be a doll and take these to the lads.” Bofur’s cheerful call snapped through the peace and Bilbo jumped apart from Dwalin at the same time as the dwarf withdrew his hands and clenched them in his lap._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“One second Master Bofur,” called Bilbo before focusing solely on Dwalin’s hunched form. He knelt in front of the dwarf placing a gentle finger under his chin so Dwalin had no choice to look at him. “We will continue this discussion later Dwalin,” he crooned softly. The grey eyes lit up slightly and feeling daring Bilbo leant in a darted a soft kiss on Dwalin’s lips._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He was across the farmhouse ruins and taking the bowls from Bofur before Dwalin’s brain caught up. The warrior stared at Bilbo’s retreating back in amazement, before turning to glower at Bofur. The be-hatted dwarf gulped and ducked behind Bombur to hide. Dwalin allowed himself to smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Leonard Nimroy’s ballad of Bilbo Baggins.  
> (2) Song by Tolkien.


	25. Trolls.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo meets the terrible troll trio.

_Chapter Twenty Six – Trolls._

Bilbo approached Fili and Kili with a spring in his step and a silly little grin on his face. He’d managed to keep it together until he’d gotten to the tree line, but when faced with only the Durin brothers he couldn’t help but let some of his joy shine through. He chuckled at Kili’s disgruntled face, the brunette dwarf was sitting glumly on a log while his brother went about feeding the ponies.

“Here lads,” called Bilbo, “I brought you food.” He laughed delightedly when he was pounced on by a thankful Kili. He watched in amusement as both brothers tucked into the warm stew with relish. 

He hadn’t realised just how much his emotions had been showing on his face until Fili paused in scooping the stew up with his hunk of dwarvish bread and looked at him suspiciously. “What’s got you in such a good mood Master Baggins?” 

Bilbo looked at him in surprise, “Erm the rain has stopped?” he hedged, mentally groaning as now even Kili was looking at him with a questioning gaze. “Seriously, it’s stopped raining, I’ve been fed and stop it boys.”

“Your blushing Master Baggins!” Bilbo shuffled back as Kili leant in to peer at his cheeks, “Please Master Baggins, something has happened, tell me,” he wheedled, puppy dog eyes firmly back in place. 

“Ah crap,” huffed Bilbo, jumping nimbly onto a log behind him, “Now boys it’s nothing.” He spun ready to make a run for it when a flickering red light caught his eyes. He stopped and squinted into the distance. “What’s that?”

“Stop trying to change the subject Master Baggins,” smirked Kili hopping onto the log next to him, before stilling, “Fili come here and see if you can see what I do.”

Bilbo glanced worriedly at the two dwarves, they were muttering to each other in Khuzdul. “What is it?” he snapped. 

The brothers turned to him as one, “A fire!”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, “Who else is likely to have a fire going out here?” he groaned at the excited look in the young eyes. “No boys, just no!” 

“But we want to find out who it is Master Boggins,” chirped Kili, slipping in his excitement. By his side Fili nodded his head eagerly. 

“NO boys,” snarled Bilbo. “There is no way on this earth I will let you two boys go tramping into possible danger!” He knew his voice was rising and in his anxious state he made a stupid mistake. “I will go and check it out,” he raised a hand to stop their protests. “No lads,” he forced himself to lower his voice, “I will go and have a look…if you two go and let the others know where I am going.” 

 

He winced as Fili grabbed his arm in an iron grip, “I will not let you go alone,” the blonde dwarf stated in a calm voice, “Kili will return to camp and let the others know, I will come with you. Yes Master Baggins, I will.” The last was in a slightly sharper tone as Bilbo had begun to shake his head. 

Resigned Bilbo merely nodded, “Okay then lad, but you do as I say and do not interfere in anything unless the rest of the company is with you,” he threw a shaky smile at the two young dwarrows, “I like the two of you too much to let you get hurt.”

Kili set off back to camp as Bilbo and Fili crept closer to the red glow. Bilbo stopped them when they were carefully hidden in a corpse of trees, “Stay here,” he muttered and Fili had to lean in to hear him, “Wait here for the others, if it is safe I will give two hoots like a brown owl, there shouldn’t be any in this area for you to get confused with.” He stopped and squeezed the now worried Fili’s hand, “You do know what a brown owl sounds like don’t you?” He got an indignant nod in response and was relieved to find the worried look had faded slightly, “Good, stay!”

Bilbo crept carefully closer to the blazing fire and had to stifle his groan of fear at the sight that greeted his eyes. Three very large persons were sitting around a very-large fire that was made of beech logs. If his sense of smell was right, there were even legs of mutton roasting on a spit over it. Bilbo swallowed, despite the good wholesome smell of roast meat and the large jugs of wine the three were obviously trolls. He hoped Fili had done as he was told and that Kili made short work of telling the others. 

The troll’s conversation had him freezing and he cursed under his breath in as many languages as he could recall at that moment. He doubted they would turn their noses up at a bit of dwarf flesh…even if it wasn’t the man flesh they were harping on about. Bilbo felt sick at the thought and was unable to creep either further forward to make use of his daggers or slip back into the shadows to warn Fili of the danger. His hands were clenched into fists by his sides to stop their trembling. He was a hobbit, he wasn’t made to kill or steal or cheat. His folk were good, honest and hardworking, even those with ill-manners would be horrified of his thoughts of trying to drum up enough courage to kill something.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, he had made a promise to Dori that he would protect little Ori and had extended that protection to Fili and Kili as well. Nori had fallen under his protection the night they had spent at Facere Fortis when the dwarf had hidden in his shadow as he’d stared down Thorin. The always cheerful Bofur was on his way to becoming a good friend and Fili’s attraction to him meant Bilbo would be doing his best to protect him also. Then there was Dwalin, Bilbo wasn’t sure just what he was to the dwarf, but he knew that he would protect the other with his own life, by Yavanna he would even kill for him. Straightening his spine Bilbo made a decision, he wouldn’t be allowing these creatures to hurt his friends, no sir. He might not be able to do them much damage but he could make a good enough distraction that the company might have the element of surprise despite their dwarvish stomping.

He slipped from his hiding place in the trees and boldly stepped into the circle of firelight. He knew he had the daggers strapped to his wrists, but having had no training in how to use them and the only useful bit of information he could think of concerning them was ‘to stab ‘em with the pointy bit’ (always in his grandfather Took’s voice), he decided it was probably best he left them there in case he removed his own toes. He waited patiently for the trolls to notice him and huffed slightly when they were all still too engrossed in their dinner to look up. 

Drastic action was obviously needed. He could hear the careful step of many pairs of heavy shod feet approaching the clearing and they needed to be making enough noise so the dwarves wouldn’t be heard. He stooped and picked up several sharp pebbles. Despite his nerves a wicked grin crossed his face as he took aim. The little stone flew true and within seconds he was being hoisted in the air by an ankle and found looking down at the trolls wasn’t a much better view. He heard the first dwarf reach Fili’s hiding place and breathed a sigh of relief none had been around to see his stupidity. Thorin was already going to be insufferable that he had gotten himself captured. 

He swung in the trolls grip as they argued over whether he was worth attempting to eat. A strange combination of boredom and fear had settled over Bilbo and he found himself giving flippant answers to any question he was asked. Really, if they were stupid enough not to realise he had said burglar first and then hobbit, not a burrahobbit. He rolled his eyes and sighed, he wished the dwarves would hurry up as they really wouldn’t get much better cover to their approach than this argument. Even Bilbo’s sharp ears could barely hear their rumbling over the trolls’ raised voices. He was forced to change his mind second later as they threesome began to brawl. He somehow managed to roll when he was dropped so he didn’t break his neck on landing, but then lay in the shelter of a fallen tree trunk to catch his breath. He wasn’t sure what happened next but suddenly there were dwarves all around and battle cries filled the air.

He groaned when Fili was the first one captured. He had hope to stay safely hidden while the dwarves dealt with said trolls, but seeing Fili stuffed head first into a sack broke his temper. Growling Bilbo pushed to his feet, he should have known his happiness was too good to last. He stayed back aiming stones at the trolls’ eyes and distracting them, after all he wasn’t a fighter, it worked for a while and he smirked at Dwalin when the large dwarf managed to knock one of the troll’s remaining front teeth out with his war-hammer. His smirk was replaced with a frown as he realised only Dwalin, Nori and Oin were still fighting. Risking a wild move Bilbo dashed forward and managed to stick one of his daggers into the largest troll’s ankle. He was kicked back as the troll howled. 

When he came too he was entangled in a birch sapling and staring down at a pile of dwarves in sack dumped by the fire, as the trolls checked over their wounds in the shadows. Bilbo hoped they poisoned themselves, the balm one of them produced certainly smelly bad enough. With his wits addled it was a few precious moments later that he realised Thorin was standing on the edge of the fire light peering around. With a start he realised the trolls had spotted the last dwarf and that Thorin hadn’t spotted them. He met cerulean blue eyes and somehow found his voice, despite breathing being difficult. “There’s trolls! Three of them!” he bellowed and watched the dwarf’s eyes widened. His shout had been in time and Thorin wasn’t taken by surprise. Bilbo watched in awe as instead of wasting time drawing his weapon, Thorin reached for a branch in the fire and whirled it managing to take one of the trolls out of any fight for several minutes. 

Thorin couldn’t last long against three of them though and when the downed troll returned to the fight Bilbo groaned to see the prince tied in his own sack and tossed unceremoniously on top of the rest of the company. His addled brain realised the trolls had forgotten about him and he realised that he had a vast store of knowledge that could help him if he could just remember the relevant facts. He forced himself to think instead of panicking at the sight of the too still forms of several of the dwarves. The glow form the fire painted the horizon red out of the edge of his vision and he froze in the tree. Trolls disliked sunlight and if they were mountain trolls they turned to stone. He eyed the grey skin tone and twisted slightly so he had better aim. If he could distract them until dawn they might stand a chance, if he was wrong then he would at least spare the company having to listen to any more discussion on how they were to be cooked. He still had a couple of pebbles in his pocket and he took careful aim. The loud crack as pebble hit solid stone echoed around the clearing and sent the trolls to searching. Each time they regrouped Bilbo threw another pebble. He didn’t have an unlimited supply in his tree top perch and soon ran out, groaning silently as the trolls returned to discuss how to cook the company. He hung his head, there was no other choice he’d have to get out of the tree and try to rescue them himself. 

He had just managed to get himself untangled from the sapling’s whippy branches, when a loud voice spoke through the air, “Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!” Startled Bilbo slipped and fell out of the tree. Shaking his head he realised Gandalf was standing next to the fire and all three trolls were actually stone. He sighed in relief before pushing to his feet and rushing to the pile of be-sacked dwarves. Ignoring the smirking wizard for now he started to rip the sack away from the dwarves they held. 

It took Thorin but a few moments to get his bearings and he turned on Bilbo just as the hobbit was checking Ori for injuries, “What the hell were you thinking?” he roared and taken aback Bilbo just stared in confusion. “You rushed off to satisfy your curiosity not thinking of the consequences.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes and shaking off Ori’s hand got himself right in the royal dwarf’s personal space. Drawing himself up to his full height he kept eye contact as he growled right back, “Oh I didn’t think did I? I rushed in did I? I was merely curious not caring not thinking?” 

“I sent Kili to warn you all! I made sure Fili was safely hidden! None of you had to rush in and fight! None of you had to come to my aid! I thought things through Oakenshield and I made an educated choice.” He prodded a finger into Thorin’s collar bone, ignoring the startled silence behind him.

“Think on this Oakenshield, if I hadn’t gone your nephews would have. If none of us had gone do you honestly think we would have stood a chance if they had spotted us after we had settled for the night?” Strong hands pulled him away, and Bilbo sagged as the anger left him, he looked up at Thorin, “Think whatever you will of me, I give up with you.” 

He pulled free and turned to look at the wizard, shoving a key into his hands, “This fell out of the big guy’s pocket, if anyone wants me I will be back at camp.” Without waiting for a response or daring to look at anyone in the company he slipped away, shoulders hunched and hands shoved deeply in his pockets.

%

Dwalin stared after Bilbo's retreating form for several moments. He had been happily smoking his pipe when Kili had rushed back to camp. He'd been worried for Bilbo then, but confident that the hobbit would be able to handle himself, then he'd seen Fili's bone white face and the whisper of Trolls had made him throw reason to the wind. The sacks had been smelly and uncomfortable, but he'd heard the trolls keep rushing off and (rightly) thought that Bilbo was distracting them.

Anger grew in his as he turned with a snarl to Thorin, "What the hell is your problem?" he hissed, easily sounding more threatening than Thorin ever could. "In case you've forgotten your majesty, that there is our burglar, a member of this company, someone willing to protect people he's never met. He left his home for us, your majesty." Thorin was wincing at every anger filled word, but Dwalin couldn't bring himself to care. The dwarf had lost a great deal of his respect with that attack and Dwalin decided he didn't want to waste any more time on the prince and turned his back on him. 

Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur and Nori were looking after Bilbo with expressions resembling that of a kicked puppy. He laid a gentle hand on his nephews' shoulders, "I'll go after him lads, you all need to stay and keep an eye on the wizard and Thorin." He attempted a smile when he got five eager nods before setting off at a run after Bilbo.

He stumbled to a stop when he reached camp. Bilbo was sitting by the dwindling fire, and occasionally throwing a stick in. When he raised his head Dwalin gasped at the hurt shining behind green-hazel eyes and in five quick strides sank down beside the hobbit and pulled him into his lap. Bilbo didn't resist, but it was several long moments before he relaxed against Dwalin's chest.

When the rest of the company returned, having obviously voted against checking over the troll's cave before they had rested, Bilbo was teaching him to weave daisy chains (only Dwalin would swear he was sure daisies were white not yellow.) Bilbo even attempted a smile when the five youngest dwarves swarmed over to them and plonked down next to them. Dwalin kept his hands entwined with Bilbo's and his back to Gandalf and Thorin. He'd deal with them when everyone had calmed down. It seemed most of the company had the same idea and soon Bilbo had managed to talk eleven more dwarves into making flower chains. Dwalin gave up on his and buried his head into Bilbo's curls. he desperately needed sleep.


	26. An Interlude.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin starts to understand.

_Chapter Twenty Six-An Interlude. ___

The company stayed in camp for the whole of the day. With the trolls currently stone (said trolls having scared away most danger in the first place) there was little to fear.

Bilbo stuck by Dwalin and the five youngest dwarves for most of this time, and if he was not showing them how to braid the tall grasses into crowns he was teaching them the finer points of Shire etiquette. Dwalin spoke little, happy to stay by Bilbo’s side and occasionally laughing at an over enthusiastic attempt from the younger ones to grasp the intricate mannerisms of hobbits. If he occasionally reached for Bilbo’s hand or shoulder the group failed to notice, the same as they failed to mention that Bilbo returned the gestures just as often. 

Bofur was attempting to carve, his pipe stuck firmly between his teeth as he watched Fili, Kili and Ori attempt to master hobbitish tradition, he couldn’t help thinking that prince Fili looked mighty handsome in his crown of woven grasses and flowers that the miner had been coerced into making for him. 

Ori hadn’t once thought wistfully of his knitting or his books in the time he had been sat with the group, in fact as Kili fell over his own feet trying to master a hobbit’s bow and landed in his lap, Ori’s thoughts were anywhere but with his usual pass-times. 

Poor Kili was spending more time with his face red than actually managing to accomplish what Bilbo was trying to teach them, yet he reached his brightest colour yet when he landed in Ori’s lap and surprisingly strong arms closed around his middle keeping him there.

Fili was managing the best to grasp what Bilbo was telling them, he didn’t understand about the flowers in his crown having a message (and Bilbo’s slightly hysterical laugh when Bofur had presented him it didn’t make him want to), but he supposed it was the same as the meanings in different gems and their cuts. 

While the seven of them were keeping themselves entertained Gloin and Oin were taking to opportunity to grab a nap in the still warm sunlight, having been on watch two nights previous.

Balin wasn’t one to lay about and after taking Thorin to task about his attitude towards Master Baggins he had coerced Bifur into sparing lightly with him. The toymaker had accepted readily and was grinning as he crossed blades with the white haired dwarf.

Bombur was by the stew pot making something for their suppers and the rotund dwarf was whistling Bilbo’s walking song as he did so, occasionally swaying his hips to a more lively section. 

Dori was sitting on a log, Ori’s knitting needles flashing in the bright day, his grey-hazel eyes were soft as he watched his younger brothers relax among friends. Master Baggins had stood by his word twice now and he was going to make the poor lad a nice scarf for when the weather turned. 

Gandalf was sitting in the shade of a large tree a small distance from the camp, smoking his pipe and trying to make sense of just what was going on in the company. He had hoped that Bilbo would get on with people, but he hadn’t expected the dwarves to be so protective of the hobbit already, especially not Thorin’s closest friend Dwalin. The wizard squinted through the blue haze surrounding him, frowning as he watched the large dwarf pull the hobbit back to his side again. He shook his head, there was no point in assuming things and being wrong, for while it may look as if they were courting, Bilbo had always been affectionate as a youth (the same as his mother) and Dwalin just seemed happy for any physical interactions that didn’t involve killing something. Gandalf supposed that having live the life the normally taciturn dwarf had, traditions and expectations went out the window when you found something that helped you. His face softened as he watched Bilbo squeezed a large weapon callused hand in his own long fingered one in re-assurance. Yes it was no good jumping to expectations with those two, although he would bet Thorin had done. He turned his head and resisted the urge to slam it back against the trunk of the tree he was sitting under. The company leader was sitting staring at the laughing group by the fire, not glowering or glaring, just staring. Gandalf closed his eyes, wizard or no he was too tired to deal any more with a sulking dwarf that day.

Thorin was sitting alone after been hissed at for quarter of a turn by Balin. He had still been in no small amount of shock after been taken to task by an enormously annoyed hobbit and a seriously pissed off friend. Then Gandalf had glowered at him and told him in no uncertain terms that they were waiting until the whole company was ready before scouring the troll’s cave. That the wizard had been backed by his nephews, Nori, Ori and Bofur came as no surprise, they had looked at him as if he had killed their puppy when he had vented at Master Baggins. Balin’s lecture had forced home that he was probably the only one in the company not enamoured with the smaller male, and although Thorin had tried to justify his actions, he had been shot down and several points had struck home. 

Now Thorin was sitting watching his company in the hopes to understand just what he had missed. Dwalin seemed the closest to the hobbit and his friend’s abandonment did hurt. Why was Dwalin so close to the hobbit? Why was he willing to take a practically un-known’s side against his oldest friend’s? He watched them interact carefully. Dwalin didn’t seem to be courting the hobbit, but he was more relaxed, more open than Thorin had seen him be since before the fall of Erebor. He cast his mind back to when he had arrived back at Bag End, his old friend had been so relaxed he’d been shirtless, and yet nothing seemed to happen between the two of them. It confused him. 

Shaking his head and deciding he couldn’t dwell on just one interaction, Thorin shifted his attention onto the most important members of the company to him. Fili and Kili’s actions came as no surprise, as even after everything they had been through, the boys were still friendly. He narrowed his eyes slightly, although he would say they were more than just acting friendly, they seemed to accept the hobbit as one of their own. He remembered Fili’s betrayed expression at Bag End when he had insulted the hobbit and Kili’s grin as Bilbo gently teased him. They had more than accepted the hobbit, to them he was family, and family stood up for family, even against family. Thorin winced as the hobbit’s words came back to him, the small male obviously felt the same for them. 

Kili’s stumble drew his attention to the next member of the group. Ori’s involvement in the boisterous, happy group did surprise him. Thorin realised he didn’t know the small dwarf well and had made no effort to do so, he had assumed the other was timid and shy, broken by what he had already gone through in his short life. He winced, every interaction the mousey-auburn haired dwarf had with Bilbo showed a completely different dwarf. He was sarcastic and cutting, soft and caring, smart and clever. The hobbit seemed to draw the best from the small dwarf and if the brilliant smiles Ori was wearing were any indication Thorin would bet the attention was well received. 

He flicked his eyes onto the middle Ri brother, Nori was another surprise to him. At the meetings to plan this quest the dwarf had been cutting, sarcastic, rude when he had been called upon, but mainly hid in the shadows. That he had not only joined the group, but seemed to be accepted was a small wonder. Thorin had to wonder if the small, soft looking hobbit knew about Nori’s past, but then remembered an overheard discussion at Bag End between the hobbit and said dwarf, Master Baggins knew and just didn’t care. He paused in his examination to look more carefully at the middle Ri brother. Nori seemed younger, more un-guarded than Thorin had ever seen him. The dwarf’s normally sharp green eyes alight with laughter. 

Sighing Thorin turned his eyes to Bofur, the youngest member of the Ur family, an excellent miner and a fantastic wood-workman, was always ready with a quick joke and loud laugh. Thorin strained his ears and bit back a gasp as he realised the be-hatted dwarf wasn’t bothering to hide his accent. In fact as he and the hobbit raised their voices in a little ditty, Thorin realised he was allowing it to flow fully. The Ur family normally tried to convince people they were the same as the company they travelled with, but Bofur had obviously decided the hobbit was trustworthy. 

Said dwarf’s wicked grin directed Thorin’s attention to Bombur. The rotund dwarf seemed happy, even whistling and humming as he went about preparing their evening meal. Thorin watched Bombur carefully, the red haired dwarf was allowing his own accent to bleed through. Even in his soft voice his suggestions were heard by the much louder group sitting the opposite side of the fire to him. 

Snores to his left told him Oin and Gloin were asleep and he shifted slightly so he could find the oldest Ri brother. Dori was sitting not far from him, attention fully taken up by the group by the fire and normally hard eyes, warm and sparkling. Thorin followed his gazed and bit back a groan, of course he was looking at the hobbit.

The loud clash of steel on Iron wood caught his attention and Thorin winced as he watched Balin and Bifur go full out in a sparring session. Balin’s blades making little impact on Bifur’s boar-spear. Bifur’s attacks seemed to be actually well thought out and Thorin was relieved to see at least two members of his company weren’t swooning around the hobbit. Balin may have decided that he was still a child, but at least he hadn’t made the older dwarf daisy chains. His eyes widened as he realised Balin actually had one of said chains around his waist, the delicate flowers wrapped around his wide belt. Thorin watched as Bifur called a halt and slapping Balin on the shoulder wandered back to the fire and hugged the hobbit, who squeaked before wrapping his hands around the toy-maker’s waist. Bifur responded calmly to Master Baggins’ questioning, even going as far as to sketch something on the ground. It hit Thorin then that Bifur was acting relatively sane since the night at Facere Fortis when Bilbo had included him as his own person. The prince dared a glance at Balin and sighed, the old advisor was sitting by Dori discussing the pattern he was using to knit. Thorin’s eyes widened without his permission, Balin just didn’t do homely talks. He just didn’t. 

He furrowed his brow, it didn’t speak well for the company that it took a hobbit to bring out the best in the dwarves. He fell into brown study as he withdrew into his head as he tried to make sense of everything. A shout from the fire drew his attention and he shook his head free of thoughts and went to sit with the company and enjoy a warm meal. If it hurt that Dwalin still avoided him, well he wouldn’t show it and he would apologise later.


	27. Grr Argh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin enjoys the taste of his own feet, he really does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not related to the story, but does anyone know an easy way to peel pumpkins? I have cramp in my hand from doing so while making pumpkin canalloni.

_Chapter Twenty seven- Grr Argh._

Bilbo stifled a groan as the bright sunlight forced him into waking, he rolled over and buried his head into the nice furry pillow by his head, and snuggled in further as his blankets wrapped a comfy arm around him. He froze, sleepy mind jumping awake as it processed that thought. He carefully opened his eyes and saw he was using Dwalin as a pillow and the dwarf seemed to be using him as a blanket himself. A gentle snoring from his feet brought his attention to the fact the left one was numb. Carefully…and without moving his body…he glanced down to bite back a giggle at the sight of Nori using it as a pillow. His face, already rumpled by sleep, softened further as he took in the fact Bifur was actually snuggling into Nori’s side and the green eyed dwarf had an arm wrapped around Bifur’s broad shoulders. Something nudged him in the back and listening carefully to the snores Bilbo decided it was Ori and Kili, it had to be both of them as there were too many arms for it to be a single dwarf. He frowned slightly, he hoped the company would let the lads alone to court in their own manner, traditions were well and good, but if they interfered with someone’s happiness…he shrugged softly causing Dwalin to mumble in his sleep and pull him closer. He froze worried he’d woken the dwarf, but Dwalin merely buried his nose in his curls and went back to his deep steady breathing. From his new vantage spot propped on Dwalin’s chest he could see Fili, Bofur and Bombur asleep on the far side of the warrior dwarf. Fili still wore his crown of grass and flowers, while Bofur had seemingly take to wearing the flower chain Fili had been making the day before, Bombur was acting as a pillow for both. 

Bilbo couldn’t hold it in any long and his merry laugh rang around the clearing and awoke most of the dwarves. Several reached for weapons before realisation hit them, but Dwalin merely smiled up at him, “Hello,” blinked the warrior, his voice gravely from sleep and Bilbo bit back the fantasy of what it would be like to wake up to that voice every morning. “You make a warm blanket Bilbo,” grinned Dwalin. 

Bilbo chuckled and resting him elbows on Dwalin’s chest peered down at him, “And you a comfy pillow Dwalin, but I dare say the rest of the company are probably scandalised by our saying so.” 

He watched as Dwalin tilted his head slightly, the warrior’s voice rolling over him again and Bilbo could swear he felt the laugh rumble through him, “Like any of them can say anything.” 

Bilbo pushed up from Dwalin chuckling at the various swear words being thrown at the warrior in Khuzdul, (he was sure the dwarves didn’t think he could understand them), and kicked Bofur gently as he passed. The miner glared up at him through sleepy eyes, “What Mister Bagg..ggg…ins?” he yawned, “Was sleeping.” 

Bilbo rolled his eyes, “Yes we all were and I was comfy as well but you were clutching Master Fili as if he were a teddy bear Master Bofur.” Bilbo ignored the glower sent by him by the blonde dwarf and raised an eyebrow at Bofur’s pout.

“Should ‘o left me ‘lone then Mister Baggins, I never ‘ad a teddy as a child.” The be-hatted dwarf stretched and turned to his brother, “Move Bom, ‘fore this lot start yammering on ‘bout their stomachs.” 

Bilbo chuckled watching the brothers interact and pulled Fili up by his ear, “What was that look for hmmm?” he asked in an undertone, “You know for your kin cuddling outside of family is frowned upon.” Seeing Fili pout he relented, “I got you apart before grumpy pants was awake and alert, from my point of view cuddle awa..omf…I didn’t mean me!” Despite his protests he wrapped his arms around Fili’s shoulders drawing himself up to his full height to do so. He caught Bofur watching and stuck his tongue out at the miner.

Taking a deep breath he release Fili and stepped back, “Right I am going to see to ponies, you wake grumpy, get Messrs Kili and Ori to wake the Grey One…tell them to use puppy dog eyes, he can’t resist them.” Leaving the dwarves behind him Bilbo strode into the trees and set about feeding the ponies, he cursed up a storm when he found rodents had gotten into one of the supply bags, ‘something else for grumpy dwarf to blame me for’ he grumbled, as he distractedly stroked his ponies nose. He still didn’t know its name or sex but he figured the animal didn’t care as long as he was kind to it and fed it.

When Bilbo re-joined the others it was to see Thorin and Dwalin standing toe to toe and glaring. He shot a look at the wizard and merely got glowered at in response. Balin was standing with his head in his hands, but the rest of the camp seemed to have come to a standstill. He sighed. Loudly. “Let me guess Master Oakenshield once again spoke without thinking?” 

The glare he got off the prince confirmed it. He stepped up to Dwalin’s side, entwining their fingers and making the other switch his glare to him. The grey eyes were like steel for a second before they softened and Bilbo smiled gently at him leaning up to press their foreheads together, “You really have to stop taking everything he says at face value Dwalin.” He squeezed the large hand as he drew apart again, “What did he say?”

Dwalin’s deep flush had him interested and he leant close to catch the words falling from the dwarf’s lips, “He insulted you again, I can’t seem to help getting annoyed.”

Bilbo had ignored Thorin’s shocked gasp before and merely raised an eyebrow waiting for the other to go on, “Come on Dwalin, that cannot be it, there is no way the dwarf I am coming to know would react like that against an old friend merely because of a misunderstanding about words of all things.” He deliberately held the grey eyes captive with his own, stepping forward into Dwalin’s personal space and releasing the hand to slide his own around Dwalin’s waist. “Tell me,” he whispered softly, as if they were the only people in the farmhouse. He decided to act as if they were alone, because it worked to calm Dwalin down. 

Dwalin looked into green-hazel eyes filled with compassion and concern. He didn’t want to tell Bilbo what had been said, he didn’t want those eyes to fill with sadness, but something was telling him to just trust. “He said we were weak,” he winced as his voice came out as nearly a whisper and wished he wasn’t wearing so many layers of furs and armour so he could feel the soothing circles he knew Bilbo was rubbing on his back. “He said we were weak because it took a hobbit to make us into the dwarves who could survive this quest. He said we were weak because we had accepted you too easily without any reason to trust you. He said we were fools because you were not a dwarf and would never be. He said you were weak because you have never know true hardship or pain. He said you were foolish to leave behind your home to go with a group of strangers.” Dwalin realised his voice was shaking and he was close to tears, so he closed his eyes “He said you were nothing.” 

He paused and looked at Bilbo’s face, the hobbit was merely looking at him with concern and patience, so he pushed on, “I lost my temper then I’m afraid Bilbo.” He ran a callused hand over the smooth cheek of the hobbit in front of him, “I couldn’t listen to him say such things about you.” His voice broke on a sob and he looked down ashamed. 

He felt a warm hand on his cheek and refused to look up after such a show of weakness, but Bilbo merely slid the hand around into his hair and pulled their foreheads to rest together. “I am proud you stood up for me Dwalin,” he breathed and Dwalin felt the words rather than heard them, “You can’t keep fighting with your family because of me though.” He ran his own hand into Bilbo’s curls instinctively, this time hearing, but not understanding the gasp as his hand brushed the pointed ear. 

“I will try to leave you to fight your own battles then Bilbo,” he rasped out, pleased to find his voice steady once more. He was granted a small chuckle in return and reluctantly let Bilbo from his grasp when the hobbit went to turn. He was pleasantly surprised when Bilbo merely settled himself to lean against him as he faced Thorin. 

He winced at the exhausted tone in Bilbo’s voice, “Well Master Oakenshield, would you tell me what I have done to make you hate me so?” 

Dwalin wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s waist as the hobbit continued, listening carefully in case the smaller male became overwhelmed. “No? Fine Master Oakenshield, I’m am going to speak and you will listen or I’ll put beetles in your next bowl of stew.”

Dwalin hid his smirk in Bilbo’s curls, “Firstly I will have you know we hobbits have excellent hearing Master Thorin, meaning every derogatory thing you have said under your breath, every prayer, every chuckle I have heard. I know when people are eves dropping on my conversations with others and would ask you please don’t do it deliberately. I have also heard everything that has been said to you regarding myself by Master Balin. I could give you a list of my attributes but I doubt that would endear my person to you. Do you want to know why I agreed to come on this quest? Do you want to know just how much pain and hardship I have had to face? Do you want to know just what your fellow dwarrows went through to get to the point of being able to trust me even a little? I might be nothing to you Master Oakenshield, I might never be anything to you, but I am beyond caring. You act like a small child who has been denied a treat, like a child whose first and only friend has made others…you are rude, self-righteous…oh!” 

Dwalin’s brain hopped to the same conclusion Bilbo’s brain seemed to reach even as the hobbit spoke the words out loud, “Like a child whose first friend has made others.” 

Even as Bilbo sagged against him Dwalin was panicking, he doubt this hobbit who had given up everything to come with them would stay as close to him if it made others feel bad. Bilbo’s words shocked him into stillness, “Well while I sort of understand you can pull your head out of your arse Master Oakenshield because it is so far up you can’t smell the shit you’re talking! I will not give up my friendship with your nephews, I will not give up my friendship with any of the company merely because you are jealous. And if this is about Dwalin then I’m going to tell you to F.U.B.I.S because I have never met anyone like him and am likely to never will, so not a chance no sir, not ever. Shove it!”

Dwalin tugged Bilbo back several steps as he kept a close eye on Thorin’s expression, he tuned out the rest of the company and focused solely on what he had just learnt. Bilbo was still ridged in his arms and he desperately sought a way to calm the hobbit down, he couldn’t think of one so settled for drawing the smaller man closer and resting his head on his shoulder. 

Thorin was watching the two interact and knew his mouth had dropped open but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The hobbit’s words struck home hard and a guilty part of his brain finally remembered the lad’s words at Facere Fortis. He now felt even worse and as he watched the hobbit relax in his friend’s arms he realised there was only one thing he could do.

“I’m sorry Master Baggins,” he cleared his throat, “I apologise for any insult caused and for my words and actions towards you. I also apologise to the company, my words were uncalled for and my actions stupid.”

He turned his eyes to Dwalin and winced as he saw the other watching him suspiciously, “Dwalin,” he all but whimpered, “I really am sorry.” If he hadn’t been watching he would have missed the elbow Bilbo planted in Dwalin’s stomach before the other dwarf wrapped him in a bear hug. He chose to ignore it especially when Fili and Kili joined the hug. 

“Well I’ve found the troll’s cave and the key Bilbo found fits you might want to come and take a … by Mandos’ Halls just what is going on?” Bilbo fought the urge to face palm. The wizard’s timing sucked.


	28. The Trolls' Horde.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooo shiney :D.
> 
> In which Thorin, Gandalf and Bilbo get new weapons and Bilbo feels the need to question Gandalf's parentage.

_Chapter Twenty Nine-The Trolls' Horde. ___

While Gandalf’s timing may have sucked from Bilbo’s point of view it broke up the hug fest before the dwarves truly had a chance to become uncomfortable with the show of emotions going on. 

Exhausted from actually apologising Thorin merely closed his eyes and prayed to Mahal for strength to help him deal with meddling wizards. That said Gandalf really didn’t bring it up again merely dragging a bemused looking hobbit along behind him. Despite everything Thorin had to smirk when Dwalin bit off a growl and stalked after them, “Well we might as well go and have a look yes.” The beaming smiles he got in response reassured him he was forgiven and it was with a smile of his own Thorin trailed behind his nephews. 

The marks of the trolls’ boots led them through the woodland and up a slight hill, onto a door made of stone surrounded by low bushes. Bilbo watched impassively as Gandalf produced the small key with a flourish and proceeded to unlock the rather boring door. He grinned at the old man’s feeble efforts to push the heavy door open and eyed Dwalin appreciatively when the dwarf stepped around his small form with a huff to lend his strength. Pouting slightly as it took Dwalin only seconds to move the heavy door Bilbo waited until the rest of the party had caught up before following them into the troll’s cave, wrinkling his nose as he did. There were bones on the floor and a nasty smell had rushed out to greet them. 

He turned long suffering eyes onto Dwalin and found the large dwarf watching him with a familiar crinkle to the corner of his eyes, “My reactions aren’t that funny Dwalin,” he huffed as he crossed to stand by the dwarf’s side. 

Dwalin could see why Bilbo wasn’t impressed with the cave, but was more than distracted by the cute wrinkling of the hobbit’s nose. He resisted the urge to bang his head against the crumbling rock behind him as he realised he had actually thought that. He carefully rearranged his face as Bilbo approached him, he was definitely not admitting that thought out loud, and smiled at the huffy response he got. He carefully eyed the cave, there was a good deal of still edible food jumbled untidily on the shelves and amongst the piles of plunder. He leant casually by Bilbo’s side as they watched the company sort through the piles of clothes, jewels, buttons and other assortments. It seemed Thorin had spotted the collections of weapons and was rummaging through them, while the rest of the company was working on carrying out the pots of coins, mounds of food and even a barrel of ale. 

He jolted as he realised Bilbo had joined Thorin and Gandalf in looking at the blades and he wrinkled his forehead as the hobbit held out a sheathed blade to the dwarf. Dwalin couldn’t contain his gasp as Thorin pulled the blade free and raised an approving eyebrow. Dwalin found himself striding forward for a better look. 

“These look like good blades,” muttered the wizard, having another similar designed weapon half-drawn. There was curiosity in the old man’s eyes as he studied them, “They were not made by any troll, nor by any smith amongst men or elves in these parts or days, nor do they look of dwarven make,” he paused and Dwalin rolled his eyes at the dramatics, “But we will know more when we can read the runes on them.” With that the wizard swept out of the cave and Thorin’s attention turned warily onto Dwalin and the hobbit by his side. Dwalin tensed but Thorin did not seem to be angry or resentful, merely curious. 

He followed Thorin’s gaze to where Bilbo was still rummaging through the weapons, as his own gaze softened Dwalin nearly missed Thorin’s words. “Why did you give this to me Master Baggins?”

Dwalin raised an eyebrow as Bilbo half turned to look at them both, “Honestly I didn’t think Dwalin needed any more weapons and I didn’t expect the Grey One to know anything about blades. It was too big for me to wield…not to mention I’d probably cut my own hand off, but you could probably always use a backup weapon.” Dwalin bit back a chuckle as Bilbo returned to rummaging amongst the weapons, “Shut up Dwalin!”

“Now Bilbo that is no way to speak to another, what ever happened to your manners?” Dwalin shot back smirking, he felt a thrill as Bilbo grinned at him, and fought down a laugh as Thorin gapped as Bilbo drew himself up to his full height. Obviously the other dwarf had managed to overlook Bilbo’s height in their battles. 

“I left them in Bag End Dwalin,” sassed Bilbo and Dwalin took a step closer to the smaller man, completely ignoring Thorin as he grinned across the narrow space at the hobbit. “Oh why are you looking so smug Master Dwarf?” Bilbo almost purred at him as the hobbit closed the gap between them, one honey blonde eyebrow raised and eyes dancing with mirth.

Dwalin vaguely heard Thorin crunching his way to the exit, but ignored him once again and grasped both of Bilbo’s elbows to stop the smaller male backing away. When he got a wicked grin in response he ran them down to entangle in the hobbit’s long fingers, “Well watching you get all sassy had me thinking Bilbo,” Dwalin felt himself flinch minutely as Bilbo tightened his grip, he hadn’t realised the hobbit had much physical strength. He was suddenly flooded with nerves “Erm well I wanted to ask…I mean that thing you did before the trolls…erm I mean.”

“Dwalin!” his name was said so softly that he thought he had misheard but suddenly Bilbo was pressed to his front and all he had to do was tilt his head and he could press his lips to Bilbo’s if he wanted. 

Bilbo watched as grey eyes widened and blush stole up from under Dwalin’s beard. He leant in closer “Dwalin?” he whispered, “Are you asking me to kiss you again?” Grey eyes flew to his and he saw the tentative tilt of the dwarf’s head. He leant up onto his tiptoes, freeing one hand to run it to tangle in the soft braids at the back of Dwalin’s head. He smiled softly as Dwalin’s free hand settled on his hip. He watched as Dwalin’s eyelids fluttered shut at the feel of Bilbo’s breath on his lips and as he leant forward to close the gap between their lips, he allowed his own to close. 

“Bilbo!” Gandalf’s hard voice echoed around the cave and Bilbo froze, a multitude of curses leaving his soft lips although Dwalin only managed to decipher the disparaging comment about the wizard’s parentage. Bilbo had stepped back from him and he shot the aggrieved looking hobbit a soft smile.

“We had best find a reason for our lingering,” he muttered before cursing at the shut off expression appearing in Bilbo eyes, as the hobbit started to turn away from him. Dwalin shot a hand out and snagged the hobbit’s shoulder, forcefully turning the smaller male and backing him into a bench containing a collection of short swords and daggers. 

“Mahal no Bilbo,” he groused, “I didn’t mean it like that!” He frowned when he realised Bilbo was looking anywhere but at him and he used a gentle hand to make Bilbo look at him, “I certainly didn’t mean it like that," he all but whispered, even as he could feel himself leaning in again.

“I just meant that, erm…” he tasted blood and realised he’d bitten his lip in worry. Soft hands on his face made him still and look at Bilbo, the hurt was still there, but it was tempered by understanding, Dwalin winced and hung his head despite the hands still on his cheeks, “Mahal I’m sorry Bilbo, I…”

“It’s okay,” arms wrapped him in a hug, and Dwalin relaxed against Bilbo’s chest, once again hiding his face in soft curls, “It’s okay Dwalin, I understand, might not like it but I understand.” There was a gentle chuckle and a slight sniff, ”Now then,” suddenly the soft voice became brisk and business like, “What do you suggest we take out with us as a reason for us staying behind.”

When they left the cave Bilbo had a leaf shaped blade in a leather sheath. He was giggling and leaning slightly into Dwalin’s side and merely waved said blade at the company when questions started. Dwalin thought he’d managed to brush the incident away and felt a twinge in his chest again, but when the hobbit stalked passed the questioning wizard with nary a word and his nose in the air Dwalin relaxed again. 

They spent the rest of the day in camp again and after examining his new blade, Bilbo was sitting by the fire watching as Dwalin sparred with Thorin. He had to hand it to the royal dwarf, he could certainly fight, but Bilbo could barely spare him a couple of glances his eyes mainly trained on Dwalin. He was a little miffed at the wizard for interrupting his moment and when he thought about it Bofur had done so two nights previous. His green hazel eyes narrowed as he stared across the camp site, maybe the third time they went to kiss they wouldn’t be interrupted. He wondered why he was drawn to the dwarf and finding no answer went back to watching the two dwarves sparring. He admired how Dwalin’s muscles moved under their heavy coverings and so was taken by surprise when Ori flopped down next to him. “So Master Baggins.” 

Bilbo was alert instantly at the mischief in the dwarf’s voice. “Aye Master Ori?” he questioned almost fearfully and then mentally kicked himself when Ori’s eyes narrowed like a wolf scenting blood.

“Like something we see do we?” questioned the dwarf at his side in a low, innocent voice and Bilbo repressed the urge to curl up. 

He eyed Dwalin again and found he wasn’t the only one watching the warrior move with admiration, an idea hit him and he turned to Ori with his own smirk. The dwarf didn’t seem to realise that this was one method of sparring Bilbo was adapt in.

He didn’t bother to lower his voice, “Oh aye I do that Master Ori!” his bald statement was met by blank or interested gazes from several dwarves around the camp and Bilbo merely smiled. “After all what’s not to like?” 

He didn’t realise he had caught the attention of the sparring pair until the lack of clashing weapons caught his attention. He glared at Ori’s pleased smirk and turned with his own innocent grin to Dwalin and Thorin. “Aye?” he asked innocently, noticing Fili and Kili grinning like idiots across the way. He kept his face blank as he made a mental note to get them back for giving Ori ideas, along with a mental note to return the favour for said small dwarf. 

He returned his attention to the dwarves in front of him as Thorin cleared his throat, “We were just wondering of what you two were speaking.”

Bilbo tilted his head as he carefully watched the dwarf, “Well Ori here was asking if I saw something I liked and I have to admit I did.” 

He smiled innocently at Thorin, “I did not believe fighting could be so graceful Master Oakenshield,” he continued, hearing Ori choke on air beside him and seeing the grins drop off the faces of the Durin brothers. “It was almost hypnotising to watch the two of you.” 

He pushed to his feet and circle around Thorin until he was standing in front of Dwalin, “Would you kill me?” It seemed to take Dwalin forever to get his meaning, but when he did Bilbo had the pleasure of seeing that blush steal up his face again. The dwarf didn’t respond verbally and Bilbo merely chuckled, “Don’t worry I wouldn’t be that cruel.” There was both relief and regret on Dwalin’s face and it was a balm to Bilbo’s hurt feeling from earlier, he turned back to Thorin. “Would you mind if Dwalin taught me the basics of how to fight Master Oakenshield?”

“You want to learn to fight?” Kili’s voice was shortly followed by the sight of said dwarf standing by his uncle his face a mask of disbelief, “No wait I’ll rephrase that. You want Uncle Dwalin to teach you to fight?” 

Bilbo couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him at the disbelief on Kili’s face. “Yes Master Kili, I want your uncle to teach me to fight.”

“You’re mad!” this time it was Fili’s voice and Bilbo raised an eyebrow, stepping unconsciously in front of Dwalin. 

“Oh and why is that?” he questioned with a bit more bite in his voice than he intended. “You boys,” he made a sweeping gesture at the two of them and Ori, “Have been trying to throw us together repeatedly,” he raised an eyebrow and pouted slightly, “I have also heard that Dwalin is _the _best fighter in the company.” He glared across at them, “So tell me, who else would I turn to, too teach me to fight?”__

__Apparently that had ended the argument as Thorin turned on his nephews and Dori was grabbing Ori’s ear. Bilbo rolled his eyes and faced Dwalin, “That’s if you don’t mind Dwalin.”_ _

__Bilbo stiffened as the dwarf pulled him into a crushing hug, causing his hot breath to blow across Bilbo’s ear as he answered, “I’d be delighted.”_ _


	29. Chapter 30 - Rivendell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf finally comes through.

_Chapter Thirty-Rivendell. ___

Spirits were high when they broke camp the next morning and yet as they followed the trail Gandalf said was there, no-one sang, or even joked much. Fili, Kili and Ori were riding together and sulking quietly about the telling off they had received the night before, while the rest of the company avoided looking at them for fear of bursting into laughter. Bilbo finally took pity on them at noon and dropped back to ride with them, shooing Dwalin to spend some time with Thorin as he did so. With his encouragement the threesome began to lose the sulky looks and gradually to talk and laugh.

The day was passing quickly and the dwarves were beginning to think Gandalf had lost them in the wilderness as the sun had started to set and moths had started to flutter, when the dappled white horse the wizard was riding nearly toppled over the edge of a steep drop. The sight that met them was a welcome one and it was with light hearts they followed the wizard down the narrow and steep path to the last welcoming house on the edge of the wilds. If Bilbo noticed Thorin seemed tense and Dori, Balin and Oin were quiet he didn’t say anything, merely encouraging the younger dwarves to sing and laugh. They were making so merry themselves that it wasn’t until Gandalf shushed them that they heard the elvish singing around them.

“O! What are you doing,  
And where are you going?  
Your Ponies need shoeing!  
The river is flowing!  
O! tra-la-la-lally  
here down in the valley!

O! What are you seeking,  
And where are you Making?  
The faggots are reeking,  
The bannocks are baking!  
O! Tril-lil-lil-lolly  
the valley is jolly,  
ha! ha!

O! Where are you going  
With beards all a-wagging?  
No knowing, no knowing  
What brings Mister Baggins,  
And Balin and Dwalin  
Down into the valley  
in june  
ha! ha!”

There probably would have been much more of the same vein to follow if Bilbo hadn’t stood up in his stir-ups, “Farn o I glavrol!” he hollered, stumbling a little with his pronounciation. The elves around them fell silent as the hobbit’s voice rose in pitch, “An I mil o Yavanna, dar linna!” 

He didn’t know if it was because he’d dared raise his voice to them or because of how bad his Sindarin was, but he didn’t care. Bilbo rubbed his temples and sighed in relief as the noise around him stopped.

The rest of the company were silent as they made their way further into the valley, and if they shot speculative looks at Bilbo occasionally well it was fine as long as no one asked any awkward questions. 

A tall dark-haired, grey-eyed elf awaited them at the courtyard of the house itself. Bilbo nodded in greeting and slid from the pony with a thankful grunt. A rough hand on his shoulder steadied him and he flashed a thankful smile at Bifur before pushing through the dwarves so he could better over hear what Gandalf and the elf were saying. He shut his eyes and prayed for strength as he listened to Gandalf ramble on about nothings, before stepping around Dwalin’s side so he would be seen. 

“Suilanna maer ellon, Bilbo Baggins trannail.” He waited until he was acknowledged with a short bow before continuing, “If you please my companions and I are tired and would wish to impose on your hospitality for a short while. We have travelled far and while I do not wish to be rude would rather rest now and talk later.”

The elf smiled and nodded, “Of course Bilbo Baggins, I welcome you and your companions to Rivendell. Tonight we will provide you a feast on the south-west terrace and then give you quarters to rest in.” Bilbo fought to stay still under the searching grey gaze, “Your Sindarin is passable little hobbit.” 

Bilbo sighed as the elf turned his attention to the rest of the company, “Come eat and be merry for here you are safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song sung by the elves belongs to Tolkien not I.
> 
> “Farn o I glavrol!” = (enough of the babbling!)
> 
> “An I mil o Yavanna, dar linna!” = (for the love of Yavanna, stop singing!)
> 
> “Suilanna maer ellon, Bilbo Baggins trannail.” = (Greetings good elf, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.)


	30. Chapter 31 - Gluttony in Rivendell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings of food porn. I claim no responsibility if you end up hungry after reading this chapter.

_Chapter Thirty one-Gluttony in Rivendell. ___

 

While the dwarves were rather happy to retire into their separate rooms in the wing they had been given, Bilbo was to hyped up to sleep. So after lying staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever (and was in fact several hours) he got up to explore the wing of Rivendell the company had seemingly taken over. It was big enough with fourteen bedrooms, several bathing quarters, a large communal area and several smaller seating areas. What caught Bilbo’s attention was the huge kitchen. He frowned a little at the height of the benches and table top but then brightened when he noticed there was a small pull out walk way around the bottom of all the cupboards. It was all made of wood and the stove was already lit. Unable to contain his small squeal of joy Bilbo started rummaging around the cupboards to see if they were stocked. By the time the birds started to sing he was humming merrily as he worked on creating a massive breakfast for the company. After all he reasoned they deserved to be well fed after all they had been through. 

He decided to start with some finger food to tide over those who would awaken early and quietly and systematically pulled the ingredients he’d found from their places. He measured a quantity of warm yellow butter and caramel coloured sugar into a large bowl, happy the up-sized equipment meant he could make more than one batch in a single mixing. As he was creaming the butter and sugar together he failed to realise a sleepy Ori had wandered into the kitchen and was sitting in silence watching him. Happy with the consistency of the mixture he added some condensed milk (a hobbitish speciality that he had been surprised to find in an elven settlement) and some golden syrup, beating it in carefully. Wincing at the strange texture he started too hum as he worked Bilbo added rolled oats and white flour to the mixture, before pondering if he should spice the mixture. He grinned as he noticed he’d pulled out several bags of dried fruit and nuts. Almonds, candied peel (another hobbitish delicacy), dried cranberries and sunflower seeds went into his bowl and when he was satisfied they were evenly distributed he filled several flat trays and smoothed the mixture so it was evenly spread. His humming became whistling as he slid the trays into the hot oven, turning around with a wide grin on his face he jumped nearly a foot in the air when he noticed Ori.

“Dammit Master Ori!” he squeaked trying to control his breathing, “Don’t sneak up on a hobbit like that.” He tilted his head, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No Master Baggins, I slept but I think I’ve gotten that used to waking up with the birds.” Ori chuckled and gestured at the ingredients still piled on the table, “Can I help Master Baggins?”

Bilbo studied the young Dwarrow in front of him and nodded decisively, “Sure Master Ori as long as you drop the Master Baggins stuff, it’s just Bilbo.” 

“Okay Bilbo, call me Ori” smirked the young dwarf, “Where can I start.”

“Well Ori, why don’t we surprise the company and make it a day of hobbitish meals?” Bilbo smiled warmly at the excited look in Ori’s eyes as the dwarf rushed to wash his own hands.

“You mean we’ll get to eat seven meals today?” he flung over his shoulder and Bilbo’s merry laugh was answer enough.

“I warn you though Ori, we might not get out of the kitchen today.” 

Ori laughed back and Bilbo soon had him mixing up the batter for buttermilk scones. At his side the dwarf picked up the tune of his whistling and Bilbo smiled as Ori measured out cheese to grate for half of the batter mixture. He himself set about making haricot beans in a tangy tomato sauce and a mushroom and spinach stroganoff. When they next looked up they had been joined by Bombur and Bilbo direct the large dwarf into cooking the sausages and bacon as he showed Ori how to stuff several large tomatoes with breadcrumbs, mushrooms and bacon lardons. When the rumbling noise from the communal quarters told them the rest of the company had arisen, Bilbo moved onto poaching three dozen eggs and put two large kettles on the stove to boil. Ori started to carry the cooked dishes out and he was met with cheers. Bilbo rolled his eyes at Bombur as the red haired dwarf smirked and balancing the two large platters of sausages and bacon on his arms left to help feed the now wide awake dwarves. 

Bilbo would have been left to juggle out the blondies he’d made, along with large jugs of tea and plates had Dwalin not stuck his still sleep rumpled head in, “Want a hand?” Bilbo grinned brilliantly at him and soon the company were sitting around on cushions on the floor as they laughed and cheered over the spread they had been presented with. 

When the dwarves had finished eating there wasn’t a crumb left, they forced Ori, Bombur and Bilbo to sit as they dealt with the dishes. Even Thorin chipped in and as the day started properly, the sun now fully over the horizon, most of the company head to the bathing rooms. Ori met Bilbo’s eyes and the two of them headed back into the kitchen when the communal area was empty. 

This time the two of them whipped up pots of kedgeree, cinnamon porridge and Bilbo set about teaching Ori how to make creasant shaped pastries that the young dwarf was delighted to find puffed up magically in the oven. He was even more delighted when Bilbo showed him how to fill them with fruit paste and chips of chocolate. When the dwarves came back to the communal area they found trays of these pastries, alongside pans of steaming porridge and jugs of warm spiced orange juice. They fell on the food with relish and when Ori brought out plates of kedgeree and thickly buttered toast Kili fell to his knees and kissed Ori’s feet. 

Blushing the young dwarf retreated back into the kitchen to eat with Bilbo before they started on cooking for elevenses. Ori helped Bilbo make coffee and biscuits, the coffee was thick and black so he followed Bilbo’s advice on making sure there was a bowl of sugar, and jugs of cream and milk ready for any unsuspecting Dwarrow. Ori’s eyes were sparkling as he chatted to Bilbo as the hobbit showed him how to cut shapes out of the dough they had made, and how to decorate the biscuits when they cooled. Ori secretly couldn’t wait to try them and was hard pushed not to nibble as they worked. At his suggestion Bilbo put the different flavoured biscuits onto different plates. Ori’s eyes nearly fell from his sockets when he realised just how many different kinds there were. Crunchy almonds biscuits were decorated with slices of actual almonds, soft coconut rounds were dipped into melted chocolate and let cool. Crumbly shortbread containing either crushed walnuts, chocolate flakes or candied peel were sprinkled with fine sugar. The smell of cookies filled the kitchen and slowly the conversation beyond the doorway trickled to a close. 

When they looked up Dwalin was in the doorway his grey eyes sparkling expressively, “You made cookies!” 

Ori chuckled at the excitement in the warriors voice as Bilbo sidled up to Dwalin and wrapped an arm around the thick waist, “Aye Dwalin I made cookies,” he smiled warmly up at the dwarf and Ori gapped at the expression on both of their faces. “Would you help Ori carry them out Dwalin?” he prompted at Ori’s impatient throat clearing.

“Aye Okay as long as I get to eat the cranberry and orange ones Bilbo.” Ori didn’t wait for them to keep talking and merely loaded the big dwarf up with plates. Dwalin left the kitchen chuckling and Ori smirked as this time it was the warrior who got swarmed by the company. He turned to Bilbo who was looking half amused and half sad, when he saw the hobbit look at him Ori raised an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing Ori, just wishing I could make my Viennese Swirls.” If Ori noticed he blushed the dwarf said nothing and left the kitchen loaded up with plates of his own. Bilbo nodded, while Dwalin had taken the macaroons, shortbread and crunches Ori had left with the cookies. Along with the cranberry and orange ones Dwalin loved so much Bilbo had managed to make Blueberry and Oat, Stem Ginger and Maple and Pecan. He sighed as he hefted the large tray with the coffee on and followed the dwarves, he better get some damn cookies. 

0o0

The company’s spirits rose even higher as they began to figure out what was going on and they waited with baited breath for what Bilbo and Ori would provide for lunch. Thorin was starting to see what his fellow dwarves had meant by Bilbo’s magical cooking, and if Dwalin hadn’t attached himself to Bilbo’s side every time the hobbit appeared and Kili hadn’t attached himself (literally) to Ori when they left the kitchen, he might have followed Kili’s example and kissed their feet. 

Lunch turned out to be a light meal by hobbit’s standards. Bilbo started them on a spicy red pepper soup and red onion and gruyere focaccia. The soup was followed up by delicately grilled sea bass, flavoured with a little lemon and thyme, this was followed by roasted asparagus smothered in a rich creamy hollandaise sauce. They were drinking a light sparkling elderflower cordial and to the consternation of most Dwalin, Bilbo and Ori were snickering over the fact the company had gone without any alcohol so far that day. Consternation was forgotten when Bilbo presented the dessert. It appeared simple but the fluffy, crunchy meringue melted on the tongue, its sweetness tempered by the sharp lemon coolie, and the whole thing was pulled together by a sweet-sour, tangy summer raspberry jὐe. 

Once again Bilbo and Ori were forced to sit as the dwarves did the dishes and they did so willingly, chatting about inconsequential things. Bilbo did find out there had been more than three members of the company under-age when Erebor fell but he didn’t push. The company were having a nice day and he didn’t want to spoil that. Ori found out Bilbo had lost more than his parents and was actually pretty alone when they had all turned up, but like his companion he didn’t chase the opening. 

The company lounged around the communal area, full and stated. Bombur was singing the praises of Bilbo to both Bofur and Bifur, while they chimed in every so often simply to agree. Balin was stretched out dozing beside a camomile sipping Dori. Fili and Kili were sitting with Nori and attempting to learn how to weave the intricate designs he was always making out of cotton threads. While Gloin and Oin were passed out and hogging several cushions. Dwalin was leaning against a wall and carefully checking over all of his weapons, axe and hammer laid on the ground beside him. Thorin had his nose buried in an elvish book and failed to surface even at Kili swearing loudly as he managed to tie his fingers into the thread yet again. 

When Ori and Bilbo could move comfortably again they headed back to the kitchen heads together as they discussed what should be served for afternoon tea, as such they missed the heated looks shot at them by Kili and Dwalin respectively. 

Bilbo had decided on turnovers and cake for the food and left the drinks up to Ori. As he made short work of the batter for a Sponge cake, Bilbo couldn’t help but smile as Ori raised his voice in a song. They worked side by side so attuned to the other by now that Bilbo could smoothly fit into the dwarven way of passing items around. He ginned as he caught the sieve Ori had thrown from behind his back and after carefully placing the top layer of the sponge onto the cake dusted it lightly with lavender icing sugar. Ori nodded his approval at the master piece of baking. The triple layer lavender sponge was accompanied by a white chocolate buttercream and geranium jam, while the sugar covered puff pastry parcels contained portions of spiced apple, liqueur marinated plums, and herby figs.

Ori followed after Bilbo the large jugs of steaming hot mulled mead balanced on a tray with heavy glasses. Only to see Bilbo squeak as Dwalin had barely waited until the food was placed down before swinging Bilbo around into a hug and planting a sloppy kiss on the hobbit’s cheek. He wasn’t left to laugh long, because as soon as he’d placed the tray down Kili was enacting the scene with the two of them. 

Blushing red Ori glanced around the communal area to see Fili and Bofur curled up on a large cushion heads together and whispering. He’d thought at first at least two of the company had missed the show, until Bofur looked up with a wide grin and winked at him. Turning his head away Ori heard a more manly sounding squeak and glanced up to see Bilbo sitting in Dwalin’s laugh and teasingly holding one of the pastries just out of the dwarf’s reach. Ori smirked and copied Bilbo’s example only he had enough strength to pin Kili’s hands behind his back, making it so the brunette dwarf had to wait to be fed by him. 

0o0

The laughter that followed Bilbo and Ori’s teasing of Dwalin and Kili lasted well into the afternoon and it was with wide grins and flushed cheeks the two escaped back into the kitchen. Bilbo had told Ori he had a special treat planned for dinner and the dwarf couldn’t wait to find out what it was. He was also buzzing with pleasure at how Kili was responding to the fact he was cooking and so when Bilbo secretly confided to him that in the Shire cooking for a single person was an indicator of wanting to court them, Ori could barely wait until he could cook for just Kili, whether or not the other dwarf knew it was a courting gesture or not. 

The company stared aghast at the door of the kitchen as Bilbo shut it behind the two of them and bar Dwalin’s smirk growing not a single dwarf moved for the two hours it took them to reappear again. The smells that filled the communal area had mouths watering and eyes growing wide as Thorin informed them that they were staying in Rivendell for at least two weeks, possibly longer. 

“Aye Master Thorin, I won’t get my belt fastened,” grumbled Bofur, just as the kitchen door reopened.

“Well Master Bofur,” sand Bilbo and Ori in sink, “You don’t have to eat the food.”

Bofur’s crestfallen face and rapid shaking of his head gave the company a good laugh. Laughter that abruptly faded as they realised Bilbo and Ori were actually carrying the food to the large table at one end of the space. A mad rush started as every dwarf tried to get to the table first. Behind them Dwalin laughed as he went to help Bilbo and Ori bring the food out as a posed to the plates they had just brought out. Bilbo gifted him a kiss to the cheek for his help and followed the food laden dwarves with decanters of a sweet, sparkling wine.

For starters they had a mint and pea soup, and it compliment the wine he had found perfectly. As the dwarves were eating Ori and Bilbo organised trays with tureens of each course. Next up came a delicately creamy clam chowder with fluffy, potato croquettes, Bilbo whistled as he switched the empty wine decanters to ones full of a rich golden brew.  


As the dwarves chattered agreeably with one another, Dwalin helped Bilbo clear the table and serve up the next course, along with switching the wine out for a fruity rose. The creamy, clove smelling chicken pie with golden flaky pastry stopped any complaints about the colour of the wine and lack of ale (not that there had been many to start with). The small rosemary and butter drenched potatoes nearly started a fight as Dori and Balin seemed determined to horde them. The side dishes of baby sweetcorn, mange tout and broccoli spears drenched with butter managed to stop that in its tracks. Ori was chatting happily as he helped himself to a brightly coloured vegetable dish and when asked Bilbo merely told them it was ratatouille, before serving up the next course. 

Crackling pork, smothered in a rich apple sauce and dishes of roast carrots, parsnips and red onions made the rounds, and the wine was switched out for a light, lively red or a sparkling caramel coloured ale. 

Bilbo chattered merrily with Nori and Bifur as Dwalin and Kili took over the serving, although he kept a careful eye on them. The drinks were replaced with an alcohol free sparkling apple and pear number while Dwalin passed around dishes of a rich orange mousse set with slivers of crystallised ginger. Kili set down small bowls of apple crisps and thick, delicious geranium cream. 

As the eating slowed down Bilbo and Ori leant back in their seats and made eye contact down the table. As one they stood and hurried back into the kitchen, leaving confused and curious dwarves behind them. Ori returned first carrying a covered tray. Dwalin rose to help him and was shooed back to his seat as Bilbo returned with another covered tray. With a flourish they removed the covers and presented the company with the last of the courses. Kili was allowed to pour out measure of the rich deep port Bilbo had unearthed while the hobbit and Ori carefully shared out equal portions of the rich, glossy, dark chocolate Ori had found hidden at the back of a cupboard. 

0o0

Long after the dishes were done and the sun had set the dwarves and single hobbit stayed in the communal area. Jokes and song followed the sated silence as the company relished the feeling of being safe warm and full. Bilbo was sprawled across Dwalin’s lap as the dwarf ran idle fingers through his mass of curls. He smiled sleepily as the candles dwindled and left the fire in the hearth as the only light. When the moon was high in the sky Bombur slipped away from the group and with a stealth belied by his size managed to sneak into the kitchen without being noticed. 

He re-joined the group with two large trays balanced on his arms. The group cheered sleepily and happily took the mugs of cinnamon hot chocolate and handfuls of the caramel glazed nuts. 

The dishes didn’t get washed this time as the company dozed off, happy in the company of each other and comfortable of the soft floor cushions.


	31. Chapter 32 - Rest and Relaxation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talks.

_Chapter Thirty Two – Rest and Relaxation. ___

 

Light flooded through an un-curtained window as Dwalin slowly awoke. He was warm and comfortable, with the faintest smell of sandalwood and lavender filling his nose. He smiled sleepily and tightened his arm around his pillow. He frowned as his pillow squeaked slightly and raised his eyes to see the sleep filled green-hazel eyes of Bilbo. He squeaked himself-although he would forever deny it- and let the hobbit go. Bilbo huffed at him and merely snuggled down as if to make himself more comfortable. Dwalin’s memory of the previous evening was hazy, but not hazy enough that he had taken Bilbo back to his quarters. He rapidly put two and two together and sighed in relief as he realised they were in the communal area of Rivendell and surrounded by the rest of the company. 

“’Twouldn’t ‘av b’n that bad Dw’lin.” Muttered Bilbo from his side and Dwalin shuffled slightly so he could look down at the hobbit, only to be met by the sight of a mass of honey-blonde curls. 

“What wouldn’t Bilbo?” he asked confused wondering if Bilbo could read his mind.

Bleary eyes met his and Dwalin found himself on his back with Bilbo hovering over him, “If we’d passed out in your room,” yawned Bilbo. Smiling softly as he was leaning forward and seeming to hesitate for seconds, before dropping a soft kiss onto Dwalin’s lips. “I wouldn’t have made you do anything you didn’t want … Dwalin!”

His name was hissed softly as he flipped their positions, cushioning the back of Bilbo’s head so it didn’t hit the stone floor. “I didn’t think you would Bilbo,” he could feel a wide smile on his face that had grown since Bilbo had kissed him. “I just want to keep this between us for now,” he hesitated wondering if what he said would push Bilbo away, “I also need to explain something to you.”

He allowed Bilbo to push up onto his elbows, “About dwarven courting?”

Dwalin blinked, “Erm Yes,” he kicked himself for stuttering. 

Bilbo pushed on his shoulders and Dwalin sat up fully, his confusion obviously showing on his face, “I don’t mean to push you away, but you are far too good looking to be hovering over me and talking about things such as courting.”

The way Bilbo said it was matter-of-fact but Dwalin could feel himself blushing, “Erm What?” he stuttered again, repressing a groan at his own inadequacy. 

Bilbo pushed to his feet and smiled down at him, causing his blush to deepen. “Oaky,” muttered Bilbo and Dwalin snapped his head up to look at him carefully, “Add too cute to that list as well.” Dwalin watched as Bilbo seemed to shake himself, “Right well I need to bathe as myself and Ori didn’t yesterday, so while I do that why don’t you try and sleep longer?”

Dwalin couldn’t help but chuckle, he pushed down the images that had randomly sprung into his mind, but couldn’t fight the deepening blush, “Yeah ‘coz I’ll be able to sleep now.” He pushed to his own feet and before he could think better of it dropped his own gentle kiss onto Bilbo’s lips before pushing the hobbit towards the sleeping and bathing quarters. “Go bathe,” he laughed at the slightly shell shocked expression on Bilbo’s face, "I will make coffee and meet you in your room. If that’s okay.” Dwalin watched Bilbo nod and then swallowed at the smile that graced the hobbit’s face.

He wondered what had come over him, aiming to start courting the hobbit, before shrugging and going to start coffee. He didn’t think they were rushing, but as far as his people went he was positively racing through courtship. Kisses in any shape or form were frowned upon before the exchanging of courting gifts. Scratching his head Dwalin wondered how he should go about explaining any of the complicated courtship rituals to Bilbo. He groaned as he filled a large pot with strong black coffee. He was doomed.

He made it into Bilbo’s rooms just before the rest of the company awoke and sighed with relief as he realised that he’s had a lucky escape. Another blush spread across his face as he realised just what they would think of him if he and Bilbo were caught hiding in a bedroom together. He sank on to the bed with his head in his hands, then again from the looks some of them had been throwing him since Bag End he wondered if they thought they were already courting. 

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the door open or realise he was no longer alone until Bilbo was hovering over him dripping water from his curls on his face. “Erm Hi,” Dwalin cleared his throat, “You are getting me wet.”

The smirk across Bilbo’s face confused him while also quickening his pulse. He let out a half relieved half disappointed noise when Bilbo moved back, “You were lost in your thoughts Dwalin,” the voice was muffled as Bilbo was currently searching through his pack. Dwalin allowed himself to admire the long legs, narrow waist and strong shoulders properly this time, “Oh piddle,” huffed Bilbo still upside down in his pack. 

Dwalin stood and hovered over him, laying a warm hand on the hobbit’s shoulder, “What have you lost?”

Bilbo straightened up and Dwalin found himself almost licking his lips at the flushed look on Bilbo’s face. From the look he was shot he didn’t know if he’d succeeded, “Comb,” Bilbo had obviously decided to ignore any inproper behaviour for now. 

Dwalin bit his lip and met Bilbo’s gaze head on despite the blush he could feel crawling up his cheeks. “I could comb it for you if you like?” he offered.

He forced himself not to back down as Bilbo seemed to weigh up just what he was offering and nearly sighed in relief when the full mouth split into a soft, smile and the green-hazel eyes seemed to sparkle at him, “I would like that Dwalin.” He didn’t realise he had stepped close to Bilbo until his fingers were entangled in wet curls and long fingers were carding carefully through his braided beard. The fingers tightened slightly as Bilbo tilted his head slightly to steal another gentle kiss. “You may need to dry it a bit first.”

Dwalin blink and stepped back, clearing his throat. “Right,” he glanced around the room nervously looking for a chair or something. Bilbo merely patted him on the cheek and climbed to sit cross legged on the bed. Dwalin swallowed and moved to sit behind him, picking Bilbo’s discarded towel up as he went. Settling against the headboard carefully he tugged Bilbo back into the cradle of his knees and set about softly towel drying the curly hair. 

It wasn’t until he dropped the towel off to the side of the bed that Dwalin realised Bilbo once again smelt completely of sandalwood and lavender, although the lavender was slightly stronger than he had become used to. He breathed deeply for a second, even as his hands rested lightly on Bilbo’s shoulders. A clatter outside the door had him shaking himself and he reached into his inside pocket to draw his comb out. 

He got a great deal of humour at watching the curls bounce back into place as the comb reached the end of a length. He sighed softly when he was finished combing the hair and leant forward so he could rest his chin on Bilbo’s shoulder. “It’s a shame it isn’t longer Bilbo,” he muttered, feeling the hobbit shiver slightly as his warm breath blew over the pointed ear. Still confused about that response he continued, “I would have very much like to put a braid in it.” 

Suddenly he had an armful of a wide eyed Bilbo. He gulped as strong thighs straddled his own, “You really mean that,” Bilbo’s voice sounded choked and Dwalin’s own eyes widened at the emotion he heard.

“I mean it,” he curled his fingers possessively into the curls, “Mahal I mean it Bilbo.” He leant their foreheads together, never once breaking eye contact. “I would like to official court you, by your rules or mine, I don’t care but I want to court you Bilbo.” He froze as Bilbo let out a gasp like laugh, before pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. Dwalin let himself relax as slightly chapped lips gently brushed his own. He loosened his grip on the curls with one hand and curled an arm around the hobbit’s back. “I take it you like that idea,” he whispered against Bilbo’s neck when the hobbit finally drew back. 

Bilbo tilted his head back and Dwalin couldn’t help but smile widely, “Of course I like that idea.” Dwalin’s smile dropped slightly when Bilbo frowned, “Courting?” questioned Bilbo breaking eye contact as he said it. Dwalin resisted the urge to flinch, “What does a Dwarrow courtship consist of Dwalin?”

 

He couldn’t help the groan, “It’s complicated Bilbo,” he whispered, aching to hide his face in Bilbo’s neck again Dwalin forced himself to keep eye contact. “We have a series of stages. “Firstly we have to state our intentions.” He wetted his lips, missing Bilbo’s eyes following the movement as he thought, “Secondly there would be an exchange of courting gifts. Something handmade is generally best, something that shows off our main skill set.” Bilbo shifted slightly and Dwalin leant back against the head board, sliding down the cover slightly to make himself more comfortable. Bilbo shifted again so he was merely sitting in Dwalin’s lap rather than straddling it and Dwalin wrapped his arms around the narrow waist as the hobbit leant against his chest. 

“Next we show interest in the other’s skill set…say if our opposite was a miner we would learn what we could, if they were a blacksmith we would make them something in a smithy, and so on.” He breathed in the scent that he was coming to think of as purely Bilbo, “Only then would any physical contact occur, hand holding normally occurs first and it is the only thing acceptable when not in private. I’m not sure how it progresses from there. Kisses would probably be much later. Probably after you have placed a braid in each other’s hair or beard.” 

Dwalin thought carefully, “How does hobbit courtship differ? I can remember you starting to sort of explain but then not.” Another thought occurred to him, “And I still don’t know what part I look!”

Bilbo merely hummed slightly and Dwalin pouted slightly when the hobbit didn’t take the bait. When an arm snaked around his own waist he stiffened for a couple of seconds before relaxing. “Just how badly have I over stepped the boundaries Dwalin?”

“You haven’t.” Dwalin was anxious to stress Bilbo hadn’t as he hadn’t know, besides he could have overstepped boundaries himself, “Tell me about hobbit courting,” he prompted quietly, his words ghosting over the point of Bilbo’s ear.

“You so have to stop doing that,” Dwalin floundered in confusion as Bilbo almost gasped his response before the hobbit distracted him, “Hobbit courtship? Well we kind of just say, I’m interested in you…so in that sense we state our intentions. Then we have different ways to go about it. Cooking is one, as are flowers and letting someone see something we have worked on. We aren’t as strict about the physical side of things, physical pleasure can occur outside of courting. Hugs, holding hands are normal even from a young age. Kissing is nothing out of the ordinary. Even slightly more carnal acts aren’t necessarily frowned upon as long as they don’t result in a child outside of wedlock.” 

Dwalin frowned and huffed into Bilbo’s hair, “See I have no idea what you mean by carnal acts, how is this going to work Bilbo? Our two peoples court in completely different ways. Bilbo!” 

The last he almost yelped as Bilbo swung around to straddle him again, only this time because of his slouching the hobbit was straddling his hips. “Not that different if you think it through.” The smirk on Bilbo’s face drew Dwalin in and he raised an eye brow in question. “Well think about it,” huffed Bilbo, “We both have to declare our intentions, which I’d say we’ve done. A gift we’ve made…if cooking a meal counts then that ties in. Interest in the others skill sets could tie in with letting someone see something that we’ve worked on - you reading my research and my asking you to teach me to fight. You have offered to braid my hair, I know it’s too short but you have offered.”

Dwalin’s heart was in his mouth as Bilbo talked, the way he described it then they hadn’t really gone against either custom. He moved suddenly, pinning Bilbo beneath him on the bed for a second so he could press another chaste kiss on his lips before releasing him to pace the room, “Right if you’ve cooked for me what can I give you that I’ve… of course.” He slapped his hand to his forehead and whirled to stalk across the room to the edge of the bed were a flushed and grinning Bilbo had moved to sit. Dwalin made short work of un-braiding one of his plaits and dropped the heavy, carved tiger’s eye bead into Bilbo’s hand. “You can wear it on the chord around your neck until your hair is long enough to braid.” 

Dwalin found himself sitting on the floor the hobbit once again straddling his thighs, “Thank you Dwalin,” the joy and awe in the green-hazel eyes filled Dwalin with warmth and he wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist.

“Will you put your own braid in my hair?” he was almost hesitant to ask, but Bilbo was nodding eagerly and soon he had long clever fingers working a simple but obvious braid into the long hair at the back of his head, “Do you have anything to tie it with?” he whispered.

“Of course Dwalin,” the braid was pushed into his weapon worn hands and he felt his eyes widened as he realised there was a strip of leather running down the braid and tying it off at the bottom. He looked at Bilbo and realised there was that look in his eyes. “Can I kiss you now?”

He drew in a sharp breath and nodded his head, somehow understanding Bilbo didn’t just mean the chaste kiss against his lips. He once again had a lap full of hobbit and his hands settled naturally onto Bilbo’s hip and to tangle in his curls. One of Bilbo’s was curled around his jaw the other the back of his neck. The pressure on his lips was still light, but Bilbo seemed to be content to take it slow. There had just been the slightest change in pressure and Bilbo had tightened his grip when a loud bang sounded on the door. 

Dwalin stiffened but Bilbo tightened his grip, “Ignore them,” he whispered against Dwalin’s lips and he felt himself whimper, “They’ll go away.” 

The bang came again and this time it was definitely someone knocking. Dwalin groaned and let his head fall back as Thorin’s voice came through the door, “Master Baggins?” Dwalin let himself fall back silently to the floor taking Bilbo with him. He gasped and stared wide eyed at the hobbit straddling his hips, the knocking at the door didn’t stop. “Master Baggins!” Thorin was starting to sound more impatient and Dwalin was forced to loosen his grip when Bilbo laid his head against his chest for a few moments before moving to answer the door, tiger’s eye bead gleaming at the hollow of his throat. 

Dwalin smirked at the shocked silence that occurred when Bilbo yanked the door open. He pushed to his feet and deciding he would deal with the consequences crossed the room to wrap and arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. He really wanted some alone time with Bilbo and from the look on the smaller man’s face he definitely wanted to try a proper kiss “What Thorin?” he growled, smirking at the shell shocked look on the other dwarf’s face. “We were busy!”

Bilbo’s laugh drew the attention of the rest of the company and it wasn’t until they were once again seated by the fire in the communal area that Dwalin realised his plan had badly back fired. He groaned and buried his face into Bilbo’s neck, “Why does Mahal hate me?”


	32. Chapter 33 - Finally.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is because it took me forever to get this chapter.

_Chapter Thirty Three – Finally!_

 

Two days later and Bilbo was feverently agreeing with Dwalin’s declaration of Mahal hating them. Despite him proudly wearing the dwarf’s bead at his throat, they had barely had a moment to themselves since Thorin had interrupted them. While he would admit that the reasons they had been given were valid he was starting to suspect that there was an ulterior motive, it was only remembering how they all were when they had arrived at his home that stopped him losing his temper with the dwarves. Fili and Kili seemed to be trying to help him, but remembering their last attempt at help he couldn’t wish that they wouldn’t. He froze in the middle of emptying out his pack, he could get some time with Dwalin, maybe not alone, but definitely one on one. The smirk that crossed his face would have brought back Dori’s doubts about him, but Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t like anyone could object to his plan either, they would be in clear view not squirreled away in secret and the company had already agreed to it so they had no leg to stand on.

Feeling the mess of belongings in his pack wiped the smirk off his face and growling softly he turned the entire thing upside down with an exasperated huff. Giving it a good shake he was satisfied it was empty and flung it over his shoulder to land where it please all the while swearing softly in Khuzdul under his breath. It seemed that despite Dwalin’s judicial packing attempt his belongings (or whoever in his family the stuff he was carrying actually belonged to) had decided to congregate into a big mixed up lump. Shaking his head he set about sorting them out with renewed vigour.

A hobbit on a mission was not to be trifled with lightly and soon he had everything sorted into nice neat piles. He wrinkled his nose at the uniform brownness of it all. Brown leather, brown wool, brown linen. While he agreed brown seemed to be the best bet when one was travelling long distances on the back of a pony or on foot as it didn’t show up marks or stains as much as colours or black, he was beyond bored of it. At least the dwarves had some colour to their outfits (even if the rest was brown or grey). 

Kili and Fili both supported blue over tunics, (Kili’s was almost Kingfisher blue in its intensity, while Fili’s was midnight blue with a pattern of slightly paler diamonds on it. Bilbo was still insanely jealous of those tunics but couldn’t begrudge the young dwarves the few nice things they had). 

Balin was actually the most colourful of the whole bunch wearing red velvet (Bilbo didn’t actually get how that was conductive for travelling and was a bit put out that he couldn’t wear colour), while Nori was the same as him with naught but shades of brown (Bilbo looked over his gear with a snort, he would even sell Bag End for shades of brown at the minuet).

Ori had surprised him with a rich purple scarf, (in fact it was so brilliantly coloured that Lobelia had turned a lovely shade of green…but Bilbo was not to know that), and the oldest Ri brother had a lovey soft grey cloak, and while grey might sound boring the embroidery around the hems and all over the cloak had made several Hobbiton matrons pull their hair and wail, (again Bilbo didn’t know this, he was just jealous it wasn’t brown). 

Oin wore lilac under tunic over his under shirt and Bilbo had marvelled at its softness when the healer had showed them off while packing their last day at Bag End. 

Unsurprisingly, in his eyes, Bofur had a cheery yellow under shirt, the colour matching the dwarf’s character and suiting him better than it should have any right to.

Bombur wore a more muted yellow cloak, the worn material, mustard in colour and complimenting his fantastically red hair and brown eyes stupidly well. 

Bifur was another surprise when it was revealed he supported a pale green under and over tunic, one being of long sleeves and the other without sleeves, (Bilbo had had to stop himself from stroking the almost velvety texture of the outer tunic their first day in Rivendell, but from the look in Bifur’s eyes the toymaker had guessed his thoughts, thankfully he hadn’t said anything).

Thorin wore a great deal more coloured clothing than anyone else, (So while Bilbo still thought of him as a bit of an ass he had had to admit that the royal dwarf looked spectacular in his deep blue tunics embroidered with silver.) 

Gloin surprisingly wore a creamy-white, sleeve-less over tunic under his armour, and while Bilbo wasn’t jealous of the colour white he did wonder if Dwalin was a bit stricter in what colours were suitable for a long journey than most, especially as his own concession to colour was a deep green-almost black-lining to his fur cloak.

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his eyes he honestly didn’t doubt that Dwalin had picked the best of the travel gear locked away in those trunks he just wished his relatives had owned something other than brown, he also couldn’t blame Dwalin for the rest of the few garments he’d packed himself as he hadn’t wanted to risk any of his embroidered clothing. He plonked on the floor and flopped back to stare at the off white ceiling, maybe he should have packed that scarlet shirt just so he could have scared everyone. 

As he lay looking at the ceiling a thought came to him. Dwalin had mentioned an exchange of handmade items in dwarven crafting and although Bilbo had in hobbit custom offered his cooking, there was something he could make in return for the bead he wore. He pushed to his feet and scampered from the room ignoring the piles of stuff still on his borrowed bed. 

%

Dwalin wandered the halls in a bit of a daze as he headed back towards the wing the company had been gifted for their stay in Rivendell. He had come to the valley expecting to hate the elven inhabitants only to find them (on the surface at least) completely different from those of their kin in Mirkwood. He didn’t trust them but he was at least willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, he did have to wonder if Bilbo’s introduction had changed how they would have been treated otherwise. His thoughts turned onto happy lines as his feet led him straight passed a superiorly smirking Balin and towards Bilbo’s room. 

He hadn’t expected to ever find his One and yet in the space of arriving at Bag End and allowing himself to be led into Rivendell it appeared he had. That his One was from a different race bothered him very little as Bilbo had shown time and again that despite their differences they were a good match. Dwalin smiled softly behind his beard as he toed off his loose boots at the doorway to the room, he would never have thought that the soft homely-looking male and himself would have had so much in common. His smile grew as he stepped through the door and took in the neat piles arranged carefully on the bed. 

It bothered Dwalin little that they hadn’t had much time alone since their declarations of intent but he realised it may have been bothering the normally tactile hobbit. Finding the room was definitely empty he huffed and wandered further into it, closing the door behind him. He had hoped to find Bilbo present so he could spend some time with the smaller male before they had to re-join the others for evening meal, but it seemed his plans would have to change. Carefully avoiding the piles on the bed, Dwalin settled himself against the headboard and folding his arms behind his head stared up at the ceiling. 

He wrinkled his nose at the aged white of the area of plastered wood he could see and found it unfavourable to the warm cream tones of the room he had been given at Bag End. Allowing his mind to wander he entertained himself by comparing the differences and similarities he could find. Despite the pretty and delicate carving in all of the woodwork Dwalin couldn’t find it within himself to like the room, not when he had images in his head of Bag End. The sheer sameness of the colour seemed to make it insubstantial- from the walls down to the furniture. 

As he gazed at white upon shades of white Dwalin found himself craving dark wooden beams stretched across a rich creamy ceiling, he recalled memories of a simple leaded round window framed by pattern-gold taffeta, dark olive velvet and soft-rose brocade patch work curtains. He eyed the white walls with disgust remembering golden beige walls and oak shelves holding colourful kink knacks. He focused and smiled as he recalled the flame tinted glass rose bud and vase, a gold leaf covered, pear shaped candle, a bronze bowl filled with small pine cones. He could vividly recall the solid oak carver chair in the corner of the room complete with its cushion with a cover of knitted dark olive wool. The age stained oak dressing table, its bronze draw handles bright with wear and the mirror a soft silver, glowing in the morning light. He thought fondly of a bed the right size for him made of the same solid oak for its frame and a mattress so soft he felt like he were flying. Huffing un-contentedly he felt the embroidered sheets of white beneath him and wished fondly for soft, worn cream sheets, a patch work quilt the same as his curtains and a crocheted blanket, wool so soft with age that it moulded to him as he slept. 

He glowered at the gently swaying white voile curtains hanging by the wall length window, there were no smells here either. Even with his head buried in the cushions Bilbo slept on all he could smell was cotton and clean air. He longed for the scents of drying herbs hung from the corners of a room, the rich delicious smells from a kitchen creeping tantalisingly through his shut door, the smell of warm earth and cut grass blowing in through his window and most of all he wished for the smell of sandalwood and lavender that filled his senses whenever he was with Bilbo. 

He shuffled lower onto the bed, still careful of knocking anything off and flung a muscled forearm over his eyes to block out so much white. He was a dwarf he wasn’t drawn to white things. He needed richness, colour and smell. He wasn’t drawn to simplicity and perfection he wanted twisting sharp lines carved into stone, dark wood against aged cream, runes spelling out history and stories in remembrance and celebration. He didn’t want fluttering flutes and perfectly modulated voices, he was drawn to warm laughter, rolling, rumbling songs, the rich notes of a dwarven harp or the lively notes of a wooden flute. He was drawn to velvety voices and mischievous songs, history in harmony, madness and passion. He certainly wasn’t getting any of that here. 

He thought of their perfect hosts, dressed head to toe in one colour, all perfectly coiffed and poised. With calm actions and soft voices. He shuddered, closing his eyes tighter behind his arm. He smiled as Bilbo’s image flittered behind his eyelids. He thought of hazel-green eyes that sparkled with mirth, darkened in anger, smiled at the corners and held promises of emotions he had yet to discover. He thought of messy honey-blonde curls that glowed auburn in the candle light and danced messily in the breeze, he chuckled softly as he remembered said curls springing back as soon as they were free of his comb. Wistfulness softened his face as he thought of how much they had grown in the short time they had been travelling, when he first met Bilbo they had only just dusted the collar of his shirt, now they framed his face and hung to nearly shoulder length. He sighed softly as he thought of soft tanned skin, swallowing slightly as he remembered the almost peach-skin like quality of mirth flushed cheeks and the warmth searing from un-calloused hands onto his bare shoulder. Dwalin wondered how long that skin would stay unmarked for, how long it would take for something to scar the soft surface. 

Shaking morbid thoughts from his head with the promise he would teach Bilbo to fight and would place himself between the hobbit and danger Dwalin returned to more pleasurable thoughts. He compared the delicately pointed dainty ears of their hosts to the broad, almost leaf shaped ears of Bilbo, and he wondered just how good the hobbit’s hearing was. His thoughts strangely moved to Bilbo’s feet and the surprise he had felt when he realised hobbits never wore shoes or boots. The soles of Bilbo’s feet had seemed so delicate and yet he walked across pebble strew or bark covered ground without a wince or any indication of feeling the ground beneath his feet. Dwalin wondered how there could be so much contradiction in one person from the curls of the top of his head to the soles of his feet Bilbo was a walking contradiction. The dwarf smiled behind his beard as he thought of how soft Bilbo’s form felt beneath his hands and yet how much strength the smaller male seemed to possess. He fell asleep bathed in warm afternoon sunlight as he thought of Bilbo, there he dreamt of sweet soft kisses and soul warming hugs.

% 

The stars hung in the velvet black sky when Bilbo finally returned to the company’s wing of Rivendell. Ori was still awake, huddled by the fire and reading some familiar looking parchments. Bilbo glanced tiredly at the young dwarf, taking in his relaxed expression and unguarded pose. He shook his head smiling softly, he wouldn’t be disturbing Ori to see if his suspicions were true, besides he was sure Dwalin had already confirmed them when the dwarf had mentioned his being able to write Khazdul earlier in the journey. He couldn’t think of any other papers he had hidden so completely away. 

He stumbled slightly over a pair of boots left outside his door and cursed softly in the tongue of the Shire as he rubbed his stubbed toe, thanking Yvanna that his feet at least were hard to bruise, before silently slipping through the door and closing it behind him. 

His eyes softened as they fell on Dwalin’s sleeping form and he started to quietly move around the room, finishing by clearing the bed of his stuff. Rubbing a tired hand over his face Bilbo stumbled as his tiredness caught up with him. Consigning his travel gear to the devil he dumped it on the floor, and pulling his shirt off over his head he climbed onto the bed snuggled into Dwalin’s warmth. Strong arms went around his middle and Bilbo sighed as heat seeped into his bare skin, he was awake long enough to pull the white blanket over his and Dwalin’s forms before he succumbed to the call of Morpheus.


	33. Chapter 34 - Snuggle Time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin sees the scars.

_Chapter Thirty Four – Snuggle time. ___

 

Bilbo woke with the birds and scowled at the silver streaked horizon he could see through the window. It was far too early to be waking up, he swore under his breath and flopped halfway across Dwalin’s chest as he snuggled into the dwarf’s warmth. He was chilled by the breeze coming through the curtained window and sleepily sent a thanks that he wouldn’t be in Rivendell when winter fell. A large hand settled on his back, callused fingers resting directly over two of his scars, his last thought before he drifted off to sleep again was that he hoped he remembered to put a shirt on before Dwalin saw them. 

%

Dwalin grunted softly as he swam towards consciousness. He was warm and his nose was filled with the scent of lavender and sandal wood. The heavy, heat filled weight draped across his chest half convinced him he was in a dream until he prized his eyelids open and masses of honey-blonde curls filled his vision. He stilled, eyes flying wide as he realised he must have fallen asleep in Bilbo’s rooms and the hobbit had merely decided to curl up next to him. He realised his hand was resting on soft bare skin and his breathing rate sky rocketed causing the hobbit using him as a pillow to stir.

Dwalin swallowed as sleepy green-hazel eyes met his and Bilbo smiled softly at him, he smiled back for a second relishing the moment of quiet with his One. He caught a glimpse of humour in the sleepy eyes seconds before Bilbo decided to stretch without removing himself from lying half way across Dwalin’s chest. Dwalin froze and let out a sound similar to a mouse barely missing been stood on as the sinuous for of his hobbit pressed against him. He clenched the hand not resting on Bilbo’s skin into the covers and tried to force his galloping heart rate to drop. 

He wasn’t aware of closing his eyes to get his mental state balanced until he snapped them open as Bilbo straddled his hips. Dwalin realised he no longer had to calm his heart as it had just about stopped and a blush was rapidly spreading across his face. When Bilbo shifted a shock of feelings raced through his body and Dwalin rapidly clamped both hands onto the hobbit’s thighs to stop him from doing that again. He realised he was fighting a losing battle when Bilbo started to rub soothing circles onto his stomach muscles through his thin shirt. Dwalin felt the muscles tremble and silently offered prayers to Mahal as those hands started to move up his chest.

His brain was frozen trying to decipher the mired of emotions racing through his body and his mind. As Bilbo dragged his hands over his cloth covered nipples Dwalin felt his eyes flutter shut and he unconsciously arched his back slightly. He vaguely heard Bilbo swallow hard, the hobbit’s breathing matching his own in a heavy tempo and sounding loud to Dwalin’s ears. 

Those torturous hands were braced against his shoulders now, and Dwalin shuddered as he opened his eyes to gaze up into Bilbo’s wide ones. The hobbit seemed to be waiting for something, but Dwalin couldn’t get his addled brain to figure out just what that something was. His chest heaving he ran his hands up from Bilbo’s thighs to his narrow waist, watching in amazement as those eyes fluttered shut momentarily and Bilbo drew his bottom lip between his teeth for seconds before releasing it and soothing the bite with the tip of his tongue. His lose grip slipped as Bilbo leant yet further forward so he was hovering just above Dwalin’s chest, there was a familiar look in his hobbit’s eyes and Dwalin suddenly realised when he had seen it before. He bit down on his own bottom lip as his mind flew back to when Bilbo had invaded his personal space at Bag End and had had him trapped against a wall, the hobbit’s body pressed head to toe with his own. His eyes flew to Bilbo’s only to see them focused completely on where he had bitten his bottom lip. Interest caught Dwalin experimentally loosened his teeth and ran his own tongue over his bottom lip to see what response he would get from Bilbo. 

He was completely unprepared when his mouth was captured in a bruising kiss, and Bilbo took his gasp as a chance to lick inside his mouth. Dwalin’s eyes slammed shut as he grasped desperately at Bilbo’s bare back, blunt nails digging into the smooth skin as heat rushed through his veins, he breathed heavily through his nose completely lost to the sensations racing over his skin. Logical thoughts shut down as Bilbo poured passion, love and lust into the punishing kiss. Slender fingers gripped his shoulders bruising and Dwalin could do little other than arch his neck as the hobbit left his lips to trail open mouthed kisses down his neck, the clever fingers were on the ties of his shirt, the clever mouth kiss and licking over every inch of exposed skin. Dwalin groaned loudly as teeth scrapped across his collar bone, every nerve ending of his skin felt on fire and his breath came in pants as Bilbo continued lavishing attention on him. The final tie of his shirt fell open….

 

“Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!” A loud and rather angry shout had Dwalin sitting bolt upright in bed, panting and aroused from his dream and Bilbo tumbling half off the bed only partially awake. Dwalin unconsciously shot out a hand and stopped the hobbit before he hit the floor. Bilbo nodded thankfully at him and Dwalin watched as the smaller male untangled his legs from the sheets and turned to walk away to answer the door.

It took his mind several seconds to catch up to what his eyes were seeing, but when it did Dwalin shot out of the bed, dream forgotten. He crossed the room in several short strides and slammed the door before Bilbo had managed to open it more than an inch. He ignore the pained yell from behind it and Bilbo’s annoyed glare as he turned the hobbit gently so he could see his back. He bit back a pained gasp as he took in the three raised scars that ran diagonally across the otherwise flawless skin. He fell to his knees even as he reached out shaking fingers to trace along them, drawing back as if burnt at Bilbo’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Shit I’m sorry Bilbo I shouldn’t have… I mean I over stepped my bounds I’ll just go.” He hung his head sadly and started to push to his feet, missing Bilbo’s shocked and then pained expression.

 

“Go where Master Dwalin?” Bilbo knew his voice was sharp, but his heart was breaking as he saw Dwalin’s reaction to his scars and he wanted the dwarf to feel the pain he currently was. “I would have thought you of all people wouldn’t be disgusted by a couple of scars!” he yanked the door open without waiting for a reply and rushed from the room, barrelling into a waiting Nori and knocking him to the floor. He didn’t stop to help the dwarf merely raced away from the wing the dwarves had been granted and out into the cool morning air, putting as much distance between himself and Dwalin before he burst into tears. He didn’t see the looks of confusion on several company members’ faces. Nor did he see the horror on the faces of Fili and Kili as they caught sight of the scars. He just wanted to be away from them all, away from the dwarf he had somehow started to fall in love with and was now disgusted with him. 

 

The members of the company that were awake turned from staring after a shirtless Bilbo to stare at a rumpled and distraught Dwalin. Confusion turned to horror as the warrior dwarf dropped to his knees shaking, one hand reached out as if he could still stop Bilbo from running by grasping his shoulder. The tears were running freely down his face and when his brother met his eyes Balin swore loudly at the look of loss in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin's response isn't crybabyish. If you think of everything he has been through, the people he has lost then the sight of Bilbo running from him, after he had just found him would be heart breaking. Won't go into detail, but he knows just what strength and level of infection would be needed to cause those scars. It will be explained in greater depths in the story.


	34. Chapter 35 - Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dwalin and Bilbo hash it out.

_Chapter Thirty Five – Misunderstandings. ___

 

Dwalin stayed froze in the same position for several long moments as his brain failed to process just what had happened. He blinked once slowly, feeling the sting of tears on his eyes before his eyes flew wide in understanding and horror. Pushing to his feet he raced from the room after the running hobbit, sending an unsteady Nori into a wall as he brushed passed him. Ignoring his brother’s shouts Dwalin ran through the halls of Rivendell following the direction Bilbo had been heading and praying the hobbit hadn’t changed direction, he didn’t know why Bilbo had jumped to the conclusion that he was disgusted by his scars but he could let the hobbit go on thinking that. His bare feet hit a gravel path lined by wispy silver birches, yet his mind barely registered the sting of the sharp stones cutting into his soles. 

At the end of the avenue was a circular pond and several other paths leading from it, after stopping himself from landing face first into the pond Dwalin gazed helplessly at the different exits and clenched his hands into his hair. He tried to calm himself and think logically by closing his eyes and taking steadying breaths. All that told his frantic brain was that Bilbo wasn’t near him, there was no smell of lavender or sandal wood and Dwalin could feel himself starting to shake with worry, upset and a hint of anger. 

Telling himself that Bilbo would have had valid reasons for reacting the way he did helped calm the anger somewhat but did nothing for his worry and upset. He paced unable to decide which path to take, the soft morning light and chirping birds did little to raise his spirits, while the choice of paths seemed to mock him in that moment. It was a well-known fact that dwarves were notoriously bad at directions when they were above ground and to have so many options facing him and with the probability of picking the wrong one had Dwalin on edge.

He sank onto the raised stone running around the edge of the pool and hung his head, he wanted to find Bilbo and attempt to explain, but it seemed like he couldn’t even do that right. He closed his eyes as he realised that even if he found his hobbit then he had to find the right words to get his point across. He had never been good at expressing his thoughts and feelings, and to have his future with Bilbo resting on actually being able to do so articulately was terrifying but made him all the more determined to do it. 

He pushed from the ledge and forced his shoulders back, focusing completely on what he knew of Bilbo. The hobbit liked nature, liked bright flowers but also liked the quiet. Logically he wouldn’t have gone far without a shirt, and in his upset state he was likely to have gone somewhere unfrequented by many people. Dwalin nodded as he studied the paths, his eyes narrowing as they landed on one that actually seemed to have leaf litter and moss on it. Deciding to trust his instincts he started for the path and passed under the arch of Birch branches onto it fully. It was cool in the shade of the trees and quieter as well. His ears picked up a muffled sob from the end of the path and he unconsciously sped up. 

%

Bilbo had ran until he was sure the dwarves wouldn’t be able to hear him, when he couldn’t take it any longer he curled up and pressed his face into his knees. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking. He wondered how he could have been so stupid to have forgotten he was shirtless around Dwalin. How he could have been so stupid as to let the dwarf see his scars? After the responses he had gotten time and time again he should have known better. Now he had lost the one person who he had let himself start to love since the death of his parents.

His body shook with the force of his surpressed sobs as he wondered why the reaction should have hurt so much coming from Dwalin, he was used to the revulsion and the disgust. He was used to hobbits being unable to look at the marks let alone bring themselves to touch them. He was used to harsh remarks about him being damaged goods, only good for a tumble with the lights off. So why Dwalin’s simple remark and recoil had hurt him so he couldn’t figure. His brain was desperately trying to insert some logic into his thoughts, but for the second time since he had met the company Bilbo’s walls had crashed around him and this time he had no family to help him rebuild them. His defences were shattered and he didn’t have the strength to rebuild them. He curled further into a ball, finally letting himself sob without restraint. 

Hard arms were suddenly around his shoulder as he was crushed into a hard chest and soothing hands were running over his skin. Too far gone to care who was comforting him Bilbo turned his face into the chest and sobbed, mourning for what he suspected could have been the only true love of his life. 

%

Dwalin had frozen upon seeing Bilbo’s crumpled form before his instincts took over. He offered any and all comfort he could to the distraught hobbit, shaking slightly himself as he heard the pain behind the sobs. He still didn’t know how he was going to fix this but he wanted to kill whoever had caused Bilbo’s reaction to people seeing his scars to automatically think they were disgusted. He rubbed soothing circles on the bare skin of Bilbo’s back, careless whether his hands brushed over the scaring or not, as he remembered it had helped ground him when he had almost lost his composure at Bag End. 

After what seemed like an age the sobs dwindled, and the shaking lessened slightly. Dwalin didn’t let his hold loosen any, instead made himself more comfortable on the damp moss covered ground and tucked Bilbo more securely against his chest. He had decided he could deal with Bilbo’s anger, having the hobbit angry because of him was nothing compared to having him upset because of him. Without him realising his callused hands had gone from rubbing soothing circles onto Bilbo’s pack to tracing the runes for protection and healing on the soft skin. Dipping his head Dwalin pressed his face into soft curls, inhaling the heady scent for what he hoped was not the last time. He knew when Bilbo realised it was him as the smaller male suddenly began fighting to get out of his grip. He didn’t loosen his arms, determined not to let the hobbit run before he had at least tried to make his point. 

“I don’t think they are disgusting Bilbo,” he rumbled, and to his surprise the hobbit stilled, fists still balled up but now resting against his chest. Dwalin splayed his fingers over Bilbo’s bare back realising the smaller male was waiting for him to keep talking. Dwalin bit his lip momentarily as he sought for the right words. “I didn’t react the way I did out of disgust of your scars Bilbo,” he paused and reluctantly moving one of his hands tilted Bilbo’s chin so he could see his face and the hobbit could see the honesty in his own eyes.

Green-hazel eyes searched his face desperately and Dwalin could see Bilbo was torn between wanting to believe him and mistrust that this was all a trick. 

Wondering just what he could say to convince his One an idea suddenly hit Dwalin and he pushed to his feet still holding Bilbo to his chest, before letting the smaller male’s feet touch the ground. He cautiously dipped his head and pressed a chaste kiss to worry bitten lips, before using his thumb to swipe away a tear. Bilbo merely held completely still and watched his every move. Growling silently and swearing revenge on whoever had caused this self-doubt Dwalin took a step back from Bilbo raising a hand when the hobbit went to speak. 

“Just … watch!” he almost begged, before pulling his shirt over his head without bothering undoing the laces. He watched the doubt and mistrust start to fade from Bilbo’s eyes as the hobbit took in the multitude of scars criss-crossing across his own skin. Without speaking Dwalin reached out and grabbed one of Bilbo’s hands and slowly brought the fingers to his bare skin. He had to press the more delicate hand against his abdomen before Bilbo caught on that it was okay. Dwalin gasped as feather light touches traced the silver lines of his older scaring, Bilbo was tracing the lines as if the healed wounds could still hurt him. 

There was still unsurety on the tear stained face and Dwalin wished he was good with words, wished he was like his brother who could talk himself out of any situation, or more like Kili who could charm the birds from the trees with his patter. But he wasn’t he was Dwalin, a warrior, a dwarf of action not a words smith or a diplomat. His hand closed once again on Bilbo’s as an idea occurred to him, going on a whim and ignoring Bilbo’s questioning yelp he ran his callused fingers up Bilbo’s bare arm as he walked to stand behind the hobbit.

His fingers shaking again Dwalin brushed them gently across the surface of one of the fresh looking scars. “I don’t find these disgusting Bilbo,” he whispered ghosting his breath other the skin of the shoulder in front of him. The muscles under the skin were still tense and Bilbo’s breathing was still catching on a sob so Dwalin drew, his fingers down the full length of one of the scars, before dropping to his knees behind Bilbo. “I find them fascinating,” he breathed over the scars themselves, moving his hand to trace the edges of the worst looking one, “They show me you were brave.”

His next move took him by surprise as he leant forward and placed a kiss on the top of the three scars. “They show me you have so much strength to be able to live through what could cause them,” deciding it may make his point Dwalin dropped a kiss to the second scar, while tracing the last of them. “I do not find them disgusting Bilbo, I am not repulsed by them,” he dropped a kiss to the final scar and stayed kneeling behind the now ridged smaller male and dropped his head into the small of the hobbit’s back. “Can you forgive me for making you think that?” he whispered against the bare skin.

Dwalin whimpered as Bilbo pulled away from him, wondering just what else he could do and say to convince the hobbit that he was serious. He shut his eyes and let his head drop lower as he tried to disguise his pain and worry. A soft hand on his cheek made him snap his head up and he found himself gazing into confused and worried green-hazel eyes. 

%

Bilbo had frozen as Dwalin moved behind him. He wanted desperately to run so that the dwarf wouldn’t get another look at the scars, but a shaking hand on his shoulder stopped him, along with his brain finally catching up. Dwalin had scars that he wasn’t ashamed of. The dwarf had said he didn’t find the scars on Bilbo’s back disgusting. Bilbo didn’t find the scars that Dwalin supported disgusting or repulsive in fact he thought they made the dwarf even more desirable. Then Dwalin’s fingers and lips were on those scars and Bilbo stopped thinking. He was so shocked that he nearly missed the words Dwalin was whispering against his skin. He pulled away at Dwalin’s question shame flooding him as he realised he’d lumped the dwarf in the same group as others who had seen his skin, judged him on what he expected to happen rather than what had probably happened. A whimper from the dwarf behind him had him swinging around and resting a gentle hand on the bearded cheek. 

“I don’t understand Dwalin,” his voice came out as a whisper and Bilbo winced, wishing he could have sounded less weak in that moment. “I don’t…” he took a deep breath and dropped to his knees so he was roughly on eye level with the dwarf, his hand never leaving Dwalin’s cheek. “If you truly meant that Dwalin there is nothing to forgive because no offense was meant. I don’t understand why…I…dammit I can’t put this into words.” The last part was muttered and as he closed his eyes he felt Dwalin wrap a callused hand around the wrist of the hand he was resting on the dwarf’s face. 

“You don’t understand why they only add to your draw Bilbo!” his eyes shot open and he gaped at Dwalin. 

“What?” he whispered, not fully understanding. 

“You don’t understand how they don’t make you less perfect in my eyes. You don’t understand how I can dare to look at them, touch them, kiss them. They are not disgusting Bilbo Baggins! Whoever has made you feel so in the past were cowards and liars. They make you more beautiful. They show that you have survived, that you weren’t beaten, that you chose to live! You survived and you didn’t let it taint who you are. Scars are not imperfections Bilbo. They are a map of your past, they should be worn with pride.” Bilbo swallowed as Dwalin’s voice dipped, becoming chocolate coated as the dwarf continued. “I can’t blame you for your reaction to my reaction.” 

Dwalin’s free hand grasped Bilbo’s waist, tugging him steadily forward so they were kneeling with their knees touching, “You will never have to fear that reaction from me though Bilbo.”

He ducked his head trying desperately to see Dwalin’s eyes, and gasped as he saw the blaze of emotion in the normally calm grey. “Dwalin?” he whispered, “Can you forgive me for judging you?”

“I’ve just told you that I do and that there never was anything to forgive,” Bilbo flinched at the raised tone Dwalin started with, before leaning in as the deep voice quietened. His eyes widened as Dwalin leant forward and rested his forehead on Bilbo’s. 

“I seem to have become addicted to having you around and not upset with me Bilbo.” Muttered Dwalin that as close as they were and as good as Bilbo’s hearing was that he struggled to hear, “Please don’t leave me.”

Fresh tears sprung to his eyes at Dwalin’s admition but he barely wasted a second’s thought for them. “Oh Yvanna Dwalin, I don’t think I could if I wanted to. You have ensnared me my dear dwarf. Even as upset as I just was I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from you long.” His breath brushed Dwalin’s lips and he held the grey gaze. 

%

“Bilbo!” breathed Dwalin, suddenly understanding the situation much better, “Miz vaen, bravaz andr aalv.” He was gasping for breath now the emotions starting to well up on him, on top of everything he was currently feeling the sensation of Bilbo’s warm breath against his lips brought back memories of his dream, “holdd miz?” he almost begged, his brain too far gone to manage the common tongue and hoping Bilbo would understand what he was asking. 

Warm arms hesitantly slipped around his shoulders and as their bare chests touched he barely registered the sense of loss of the hand moving off his face. Clever fingers wound into his hair, “ Miz duzkak,” whispered Bilbo against his lips before pressing his own warm and pliable against them. 

Dwalin filed away that Bilbo had understood and spoken verbal Khudzul before he gave himself into the feeling of the loving kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Miz vaen, bravaz andr aalv. = My beautiful, brave other half. 
> 
> Holdd miz? = hold me?
> 
> miz Duzkak = my love.


	35. Chapter 36 - Innocence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give Balin a hug for me please.

_Chapter Thirty Six – Innocence._

 

Nori groaned and rubbed his head where it had connected with the wall. He supposed he now knew better than to wake Bilbo up angrily, although he was confused as to why the hobbit had been shirtless. He glanced slowly around the room, his wary eyes landing on the shocked and horrified expressions of the Durin heirs. He pushed off the wooden wall behind him and stalked over to them, ignoring Balin’s slightly pale face in favour of the dwarves more likely to give him information.

“Fili! Kili!” he barked, “What the hell was that?” 

Dark eyes turned to him as Kili gave up on his staring and fixed his gaze on Nori, “That was Bilbo and Dwalin having some sort of falling out.”

Nori flinched at the monotone tone of voice the normally hyper young dwarf was using. He’d seen that look on the lad’s face once before and it was when he’d seen the state Ori had been in when they’d finally made it to the Blue Mountains many years ago. Nori swallowed making a conscious effort to lower his voice, “That I understood Kili, what I was asking was the reaction of you two to Master Baggins’ retreat?”

Fili now turned to him and he flinched at the look in those blue eyes. He didn’t realise they’d gathered a crowed until Bifur’s hand landed comfortingly on his shoulder. When Fili spoke his voice was low and unsure, “Did you see Bilbo’s back?” Nori shook his head slightly opening his mouth as if to answer, but Fili seemed drawn into himself and carried on, “Well you know how he told us at that old crumbly human place that he had lost his parents to an orc attack? I don’t think he told us everything. He…” Nori flinched as the young dwarf broke off on a sob and watched in amazement as a sleepy looking Bofur drew the blonde dwarf into his arms and allowed the lad to cry on his shoulder. 

Nori glanced around the encircled dwarves, his green eyes finally landing on Balin’s guilt lined face. The white haired dwarf had wrapped his arms around his stomach as if holding back his own emotions. Nori kept his steady gaze on Balin’s face, and slowly others’ gazes joined his own. 

Balin looked up and sighed, “It wasn’t my place to say. The lad has three Mahal awful scars running from his left shoulder to his right hip. They still look freshly healed, but from the ease he’s wore his pack I suspect they are old and just haven’t healed properly due to infection setting in.”

He swallowed hard, “I have only seen the likes of them on the skin of dwarves who have gotten on the wrong side of an orcish slayer. Humans cannot survive the pain and damage to their bodies.” 

Nori watched as the older dwarf seemed to tremble under the onslaught of memories and guilt ate at him for making the diplomat relive this. He almost sighed in relief as he saw his older brother stand by the white haired dwarf’s side in support. Balin seemed to draw strength from the silent support. 

“I am not speaking lightly when I tell you these things and it is still not my place to say. You all need to know this though and I hope you won’t judge our burglar, he is entitled to his own secrets as we all are. Other than Master Oin I am the only dwarf here who has seen these slayers in action. They don’t rely on blades the same way as the rest of their kin, they instead support a weapon capable of much greater damage. I have seen them only once from a distance, but I have seen the devastation they can wreak on flesh. Three thongs of leather, bound together at one end to form a handle, at the other end, the three loose ends are three hooked blades. You all know how men use lashes as punishment, how with enough force they can cut through the skin.” 

Nori flinched remembering the state they had found Ori in and raised horrified eyes to Blain’s “They are worse than the things humans use aren’t they!” His voice was hoarse and he failed to see Ori standing tall and proud at Kili’s side, Kili’s arm around his waist. “Those things humans use take much force and even then tend to only bruise our hides.”

Balin nodded his grey eyes cloudy, “Aye,” his voice sounded broken, “The whips the slayers use can rip through a dwarf’s skin to the bone with one lash. No more no less. I didn’t think it was possible for another race to survive that sort of injury. Even elves have died from it. The sheer shock of the pain can kill, let alone the blood loss or internal injury. That Master Baggins survived…”Balin’s voice trailed off for a moment as he shook himself, “Perhaps I should explain that if you survive all that, you then have to deal with the infection that sets in due to the orcish blades. If you survive the infection you have months of gruelling, agonising healing to face.”

Nori stumbled back against Bifur’s chest, “You’ve felt it haven’t you?” his voice was barely more than a whisper as he stared at Balin in horrified awe. “The only way you can speak so is because you’ve felt it and Oin knows because he treated you!”

“Aye Nori,” Balin suddenly sounded old, “I barely survived it myself and that was when we had the healing wings of Erebor at our disposal.”

Oin stepped forward standing at Balin’s other side, “That Master Baggins has survived what has destroyed elves, men and dwarves before him has me in awe of him. I know what is needed to treat those wounds and with how slight he is he is lucky they didn’t damage his spine. Balin survived merely because we are used to treating war injuries, can any of you imagine hobbits knowing how to deal with such wounds?”

“Mahal!” Thorin’s exclamation was so quiet that Nori at first thought he was hearing things and turned with a curious expression towards his crown prince. Thorin looked troubled. “He may have survived it, but can you imagine hobbits being kind over the scars he must surely bare off such a weapon?” 

The silence that fell over the dwarves at that statement was absolute, and as Nori stared at the royal dwarf he realised that the bombshell of Bilbo’s research on dragons would have to wait. 

%

Bilbo drew back and smiled self-consciously across at a dazed looking Dwalin. “Ohr lhiam,” he breathed in Khudzul before reverting back into the common tongue, “I should never have doubted you.” 

Dwalin felt the words ghost over his lips and shuddered slightly as the slight hobbit rumbled the words of his native tongue. His own breathing was irregular as he answered, “There is nothing to be sorry for Bilbo.”

“Good,” Dwalin blinked and looked across at the slightly smiling hobbit. The expression triggered something in his mind and he remembered the many half smiles Bilbo had hitched onto his face around the other hobbits and Dwalin unconsciously soothed his hands over the slightly raised scars on Bilbo’s back. 

“You,” Dwalin swallowed as he stumbled over the words, still unable to get used to being pressed against Bilbo’s naked chest. “You asked a couple of days ago if you could kiss me.” Green-hazel eyes met his and Dwalin felt himself blush slightly, “Well, I mean if you still want to, would you?”

Bilbo stilled and locked gazes with Dwalin. His heart was pounding in his chest at those innocent words. He doubted Dwalin knew just what his hands ghosting over his bare skin was doing to him, but the dwarf had asked and if Dwalin was able to see his scars as beautiful and show him as such Bilbo really had no problems in giving the dwarf what he was asking for. He smiled and without answering, shifted slightly and closed the gap between them again. Smirking at the groan rumbling in the dwarf’s chest as he straddled the wide thighs. He ran teasing fingers over the dwarf’s bare chest, keeping the touches ghosting as he slowly increased the pressure of the kiss. Running one hand into the thick braided hair he twisted his fingers in the woven strands and tugged lightly. 

Dwalin was relishing the feeling of the kiss when Bilbo changed the tempo slightly. He gasped as clever fingers tugged at his hair, and then stopped thinking as Bilbo used it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. In the back of his mind he realised it all seemed familiar but he could do little but grip at Bilbo’s back and hips as the breath was forced from his lungs as Bilbo deepened the kiss yet again. The ghosting fingers on his skin didn’t let up, and a shift of Bilbo’s hips had him groaning, the sound shocking him from his haze and making him aware he needed to take a breath. 

As if sensing his need Bilbo drew back slightly, leaving a small space between their lips and Dwalin gulped down air, his breathing ragged and chest heaving. He opened his eyes and his heart rate doubled at the flush across Bilbo’s high cheek bones and the sparkle in the green-hazel eyes. 

“Wow.” Dwalin flushed at the inane comment he’d just come out with.

“Wow indeed,” Bilbo breathed and Dwalin felt himself shiver again at the husky tone of the hobbit’s voice. Bilbo scrapped his nails along his scalp and goose-bumps broke out over his skin, there was hot breath at his throat and Dwalin could do little other than tip his head back allowing Bilbo access to the tender skin there.

“You know as much as I would like to continue this,” Dwalin was struggling to focus on Bilbo’s words. The fingers in his hair driving him mad, and the hot breath against his skin left him itching for more, flashes of his dream weren’t helping his control either. Bilbo’s questing fingers brushed over a still sensitive scar and Dwalin groaned deep and low, Bilbo’s next words taking a while to filter into his hazy brain, “We should probably re-join the others.” Dwalin didn’t realise he was shaking his head until Bilbo cupped his cheeks and dropped a gentle kiss on his swollen lips. “Yes we should, we should also probably talk so we don’t get into any other misunderstandings like this again.” 

Dwalin found he couldn’t argue with that logic, as much as he wanted to, “Fine,” he grumbled, unconsciously tracing his fingers over Bilbo’s scars. 

He was surprised when Bilbo pressed against his chest again with a shudder and slight breathy groan, “Yvanna,” breathed the hobbit against his lips, “Maybe later.”

Bilbo had stopped with good intentions, but Dwalin’s fingers running down the length of one of his scars had him throwing said intentions to the seven winds. He had never realised that his scars were erogenous zones and had actually groaned out loud, something he hadn’t done in years. He returned to kissing Dwalin, the still dazed dwarf putting up little resistance. Bilbo felt a shiver run down his spine as Dwalin became more adventurous in returning his kisses and unconsciously scraped his nails against Dwalin’s ribs. The groan it got him in response had heat pooling in Bilbo’s stomach, and an idea growing in his mind. He paused in the kiss, dipping down to nip along Dwalin’s bearded jaw relishing in the dwarf’s shuddering breath. He soon had the dwarf sitting, leaning back against a stone pillar rather than kneeling and dropped his mouth to kiss down the wide column of Dwalin’s neck.

He removed his fingers from the dwarf’s hair, and was soon using both hands to trace the patterns of silvery scars and black tattoos decorating the pale skin. He glanced up at the dwarf from under his eyelashes and was surprised to see Dwalin’s head flung back and his eyes closed as the wide chest struggled for breath. He guiltily realised Dwalin wasn’t used to the sort of emotions he was probably feeling and so lightened his touches, returning his mouth to Dwalin’s and kissing the dwarf deeply again, drawing the dwarf down to sensations he could handle. He knew he had succeeded when wide hands settled on his hips, the fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to leave bruises. Bilbo didn’t pull back though merely smirked and allowed his own exploration of Dwalin’s chest to continue. He used the pressure of fingers on his hips as an indicator of when Dwalin was struggling with the sensations, the dwarf loosening his grip when he was over whelmed. Pausing in his administrations Bilbo bit back his own groan at the sight of just how wanton Dwalin looked at that moment. He closed his eyes fighting back the urge to simply make Dwalin his, if the dwarf had never experienced this before then he wasn’t going to rush it and he certainly wasn’t going to force the issue where anyone could walk in on them. 

Dwalin was beginning to think Bilbo was actually trying to kill him with the sensations flooding his body and yet hadn’t been able to bring himself to protest, when the hobbit had returned to kissing him. He’d gotten himself somewhat under control when Bilbo had returned to exploring his scaring and tattoos, promptly driving all thoughts from his head again. When Bilbo had drawn back and Dwalin had caught his breath he realised it was probably mid-afternoon. He loosened his grip on the hobbit’s hips, wincing in guilt as he realised Bilbo would likely have bone deep bruises off his grip. Instead of the scolding he was expecting he got a cocky smile and a gentle peck on his lips. 

Bilbo waited until Dwalin focused in on him properly before pushing himself to a standing position, wincing as his knees popped. He held a hand out to the rumpled looking dwarf and watched in appreciation as Dwalin hauled himself up. He realised he was staring at the play of Dwalin’s muscles when the dwarf touched his cheek gently. “Sorry,” he sighed passing Dwalin his shirt with a pout. 

Dwalin watched those full lips pout, and remembered back in Bag End when Bilbo had sulked when he had put his shirt on after Thorin’s arrival. He couldn’t help himself and dropping his shirt backed Bilbo against the pillar he’d just been leaning against, capturing the full mouth with his own. He grinned wickedly at the gasp it got him, dropping his hands to rest on the narrow hips again he slowly deepened the kiss, realising Bilbo was letting him lead. Remembering how much he enjoyed the hobbit kissing his neck he lowered his head to do the same to Bilbo, the breathy moan it got him was unexpected but not unappreciated. He scraped his teeth lightly over the soft tanned skin, and groaned himself as hands tightened reflexively on his own hips. Drawing back he looked down at Bilbo and smiled as the hobbit shook his head carefully, wondering how he was able to get Bilbo looking as dazed as he himself had felt only moments before. 

“You have no idea how glad I am that you have no practice at that,” groaned Bilbo, slipping his hands around to lock at the base of Dwalin’s back. “And in answer to your question you can manage to get me dazed because you are far too seductive Dwalin.”

“Really?” Dwalin ignored the fact he’d obviously spoken out loud in favour of the fact he could actually make Bilbo feel the same way he did when the hobbit started with the wandering hands and lips.

“Oh yes Dwalin,” breathed Bilbo making no move to shift from their positions pressed shoulder to groin, “Far too good.” His voice was husky, and he knew if they didn’t move soon they wouldn’t return to the company for another few hours if he had his way. 

“Bilbo,” if his voice had been husky, then Dwalin’s voice was growl and he felt it reverberate in his own chest. 

“Yvanna Dwalin,” he gasped, “If you don’t let go I can’t promise we will re-join the company today.”

“Right,” Dwalin cleared his throat but made no move to loosen his grip, “We will be doing that again at some point though, won’t we?”

He sounded so unsure that Bilbo couldn’t help himself, “Oh yes,” he growled, bringing his lips within millimetres of Dwalin’s, “That and so much more.” 

He allowed his hands to slip lower, swallowing Dwalin’s groan-squeak as he kissed him deeply. Taking advantage of Dwalin’s shocked stated he turned them so Dwalin was leaning against the pillar and ground their groins together momentarily. He felt and heard Dwalin’s response thrum through his body and drank it in for moments before he stepped back leaving the dwarf panting against the pillar.

“I hope you don’t think I am ever letting you go Dwalin,” he smirked and scooped up the discarded shirt, “And since you don’t want this I’ll be borrowing it so I don’t get asked to many stupid questions by the company.” He paused at the exit to the garden room they were in, “Don’t get too lost on your way back Dwalin.” He smirked before slipping down the tree lined walk way, wondering if he could find a cold bath anywhere before he had to face the dwarf again. 

Dwalin stared after Bilbo’s retreating form in shock, he didn’t care that he’d just lost his shirt, if it made Bilbo react like that he would quite happily walk around shirtless for their entire time at Rivendell. Might get his a few funny looks from the company, but it would definitely be worth it. He smirked as he touched his lips softly, before wincing as he put his full weight on the cut soles of his feet. Well walking around shirtless would need to wait until he had washed his feet and put his boots back on. He walked gingerly back to the wing the company had been granted, muttering unflattering things about elves under his breath. 

%

Bilbo had entered the wing at the same pace as he had left, flinging apologies at Nori as he disappeared into his room for a moment, before reappearing and doing the same to a bathing room. As the resounding thunk of a lock sliding home sounded in the air Nori turned to his youngest brother who was curled up, half on the seat half across a blushing Kili’s lap, “I don’t understand him.” he wailed.

Ori paused in his reading to look up, and taking advantage of the pause shifted causing Kili to yelp. He looked at him in worry, taking in the brunette’s brilliant blush, before patting his cheek gently before turning back to Nori, “It’s Master Baggins what’s not to get?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohr lhiam = I’m sorry


	36. Chapter 37 - Back in the Game.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Bilbo finds out.

_Chapter Thirty Seven – Back in the Game. ___

Gandalf returned to the company of dwarves and one hobbit he had left alone for several days since their arrival at Rivendell just in time to see a shirtless Dwalin stumble up the steps muttering unflattering things about the elves’ choice of path coverings. He stopped and leaned heavily on his staff, staring for several moments in complete disbelief as the warrior dwarf sat heavily beside Ori and Kili on a low bench and kept on muttering despite the fact he was now around others. His disbelief grew as Ori merely kicked the larger dwarf in the hip slightly to make himself some room for his feet again and Kili glanced up from where he was reading over Ori’s shoulder to level an unimpressed glare at his uncle. Shaking his head Gandalf turned to look for the rest of the company and resisted the urge to stare like a gormless idiot, with supreme effort he forced his jaw closed and bit down on his lip so as not to burst into laughter. 

Dori was once again sitting besides Balin chatting amicably with the white haired dwarf as he knitted at a fantastic pace, never once looking at his hands. Gandalf bit back a snort, Dori mightn’t be looking at his own hands but Balin kept glancing down an expression of disbelief on his face as he kept checking just how rapidly the prim and proper dwarf could knit. The white haired diplomat was puffing merrily on his pipe and the scent of it reminded Gandalf very much of the leaf Belladonna Took had plied him with one raucous party. He wondered if Bilbo had introduced the dwarves to the hobbit way of partying or if Balin had merely snaffled some of the smaller male’s leaf without him knowing. 

Shaking his head Gandalf raised a startled eyebrow as he took in Bofur trying to teach Fili how to carve a simple block of wood into something interesting. The blonde dwarf was getting more and more agitated as he simply couldn’t get the blade to work the way he wanted it to. Gandalf choked on his own tongue as an apparently unconcerned Bofur took the young prince's hands in his own and shifting behind him slightly guided him through the cut he was trying to make. The wizard had a suspicion that the move helped Fili very little, especially if the red blush spreading over tanned cheeks was anything to go by. Turning his eyes away to give the blonde some privacy his old eyes landed on a wildly gesturing Bifur. That the toy maker was sitting with Nori no longer came as a surprise to the wizard that he was arguing his point and stubbornly refusing to back down did. Gandalf’s other eyebrow rose as he realised Nori was refusing to back down an inch and the normally quiet and reserved dwarf was gesturing just as wildly as Bifur, his normally pale face flushed as he worked himself up.

Closing his eyes Gandalf prayed for some normalcy, he found it in the snoozing forms of Gloin and Oin. Sighing in relief that some of the company were acting the same as normal he searched the wide room for Bombur and found him pouring over an old, slightly faded book a cup of what was probably originally a hot drink balanced on one knee. Thorin was sitting not far from the rotund dwarf, his form slightly hidden by Bombur’s mass and he seemed to be making the most of a quiet moment. For once not sharpening his blades or pouring over the map, but curled up a book of elvish poetry a small smile softening his features. Gandalf groaned quietly, there went his normalcy. 

Realising they were missing a member his eyes searched the room for the middle aged hobbit he’d dragged on this quest. He felt slightly guilty for what the poor lad had gone through with the trolls and wanted to make it up to him by introducing him to Rivendell’s library. He realised as he glanced around the room that several of the dwarves had obviously already found the massive collection of books, but Erestore hadn’t mentioned any of the company visiting him. Shrugging slightly Gandalf returned to looking for Bilbo. Deciding he wasn’t actually with the company he walked quietly over to the room the hobbit had been given, stumbling over a pair of dwarven boots lying by the doorway. Cursing he righted himself and peered into the brightly lit interior. No hobbit. He sighed eyes skimming over the neat piles of clothing, the even neater piles of other travelling belongings before landing on the rumpled bed. He shrugged he’d obviously have to look elsewhere for Bilbo. Grumbling under his breath Gandalf left the guest wing and headed into the gardens in his search for the hobbit.

%

Bilbo stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirror that was present in the bathing room he’d ducked into to try and cool off. The cold bath had helped somewhat but the large mirror was giving him ideas, he shook his head dispelling the thoughts for the time being, he doubted that it was a good idea to let Dwalin know just how warped his mind could actually get. He dropped his towel and smirked at his reflection, flexing his lean muscles and ruffling his curls. Somehow in the space of a single moon he’d gotten his confidence back and he liked it. His slightly longer curls bounced back from his hand, falling around his pointed ears and stopping just above his eyebrows. His green-hazel eyes sparkled with life and the weird combination of humour and lust he’d seen in the mirror many a time in his youth. He found it strange he barely looked a day older than the days when his reputation in the Shire wasn’t one of the slightly odd but respectable Baggins. His smirk grew as he remembered just how he’d gotten the reputation he’d well-earned in his teens. He’d forgotten just how much he’d missed those days, but damn looking at himself now he might just be back in the game. 

%

Dwalin had just accepted a cup of steaming tea off Dori, the cool of the night making itself known in the open fronted communal space, when Bilbo sauntered out of one of the bathing rooms wearing Dwalin’s oversized shirt and just his shirt. Dwalin choked on the scalding liquid as he inhaled involuntarily, there was a spark in his hobbit’s green-hazel eyes that both drew him in and made him want to run for the hills. The swing of the smaller male’s hips had him leaning forward and following Bilbo with his eyes. He didn’t realise he was staring at the now closed bedroom door until Ori snorted beside him and leant over to shut his open mouth with two fingers. “Stop drooling Dwalin,” he huffed and Dwalin snapped his eyes to the slender dwarf who was once again engrossed in his book. 

“Huh?” he realised he was being less than articulate, and chose to blame the fact he had used up his word quota for the day with Bilbo (it was what his nephews always jokingly said was his problem anyway and for once it worked in his favour so he was using it).

“You were staring and drooling Dwalin. I mean we all know you like him, he is wearing your bead and your shirt, but the drooling is a little too much for us to handle. Young, impressionable minds here.” Ori hadn’t looked up from his book throughout his speech, making Dwalin wonder how he had been the only one to notice he’d gotten completely lost in his head. 

“Ah,” he huffed intelligently, “In that case I will remove my offensive self from your presence.” He stood quickly only to fall back quickly as to take the weight off his feet, “Holy, buggering fuck!” he yelped drawing the attention of his nephews, brother and prince onto him.

“Really Dwalin,” groaned Thorin, “I swear your language is more suited to the back street brothels in human towns than someone related, closely I might add, to the royal family of Durin.” He glanced around Bombur at Dwalin who was holding one of his feet and groaning, “Oh suck it up you complete wuss, you’ve had worse than scratches.”

“Shut it Thorin!” Dwalin groused, “Feels like I have paper cuts all over my feet, it still hurts, allow me to be a wuss.”

“Aww poor baby,” Thorin’s voice was mocking as he returned to his poetry book, “Don’t know what possessed you to run around in bare feet anyway.”

Dwalin slumped against the back of the seat and folded his arms, tucking his feet under his body as he did. If Bombur hadn’t been in the way he’d have thrown his tin mug at Thorin for that comment, but the red haired dwarf was and he supposed Thorin hadn’t been up when he raced off after Bilbo. Soft hands on his bare shoulders made him gasp and stiffen for a second until he realised Bilbo was standing behind him. “You are hurt?” the voice was quiet, the words blown against his right shoulder. Dwalin shivered slightly, leaning back into the fingers pressing into the muscles of his shoulders. 

“Nothing to worry about Bilbo, Oh Mahal that feels good.” He barely flinched at the surround sound of choking that occurred at his announcement, “You really have fantastic fingers.”

“Why thank you Dwalin,” there was humour in Bilbo’s voice and Dwalin chuckled rolling his head to one side as Bilbo attacked the muscles in his right shoulder. 

“Where did you learn to do that? Sweet mercy,” he gasped. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fili with his fingers in his ears and Kili trying to get further away from him without tipping Ori from his lap. He smirked wickedly at Bilbo’s dirty chuckle, his nephews would try to interfere in his life, and they would have to suffer the consequences. 

“This Dwalin?” The innocence in Bilbo’s voice fooled nobody, especially Dwalin but he was willing to play along and so he nodded silently. “Oh it is a well-known skill in the Shire Dwalin,” Bilbo muttered, working on a stubborn knot in the muscle, Dwalin merely hummed not trusting his voice, he might want to get some revenge on nosey nephews but he did not want to give them teasing material. Bilbo shifting so Dwalin’s head was resting against his stomach gave him some indication that what Bilbo was going to say next would be slightly shocking to the rest of the company. He wasn’t to be disappointed, as with a delightfully innocent voice Bilbo went on, “Of course in the Shire I would be straddling you so I could get at all of your back. Master Balin are you okay? You have gone a particular red colour.”

Dwalin couldn’t help it and burst into laughter, he twisted so he was kneeling on the seat and facing Bilbo, he brushed their lips chastely together. “You could straddle me anytime Bilbo,” he growled quietly, his words meant for the hobbit’s ears only. The green-hazel eyes sparkled with delight and Bilbo threaded his fingers into the now loosely braided hair, sending shivers down Dwalin’s back as blunt nails scrapped softly over his scalp. He tilted his head up so there was little space between their lips, and paused before he kissed the smaller male.

Bilbo smiled at him, “I might have to take you up on that offer Dwalin,” he growled, and Dwalin gasped as his mouth was taken in a bruising kiss. A small part of his mind was making a mental note not to tease Bilbo unless he was comfortable with receiving such physical affections in front of others, most of it was merely doing a happy dance. 

“Damn,” he groaned, when Bilbo finally drew back, “What was that for?”

“Oh,” the smirk on Bilbo’s face said it all and Dwalin was laughing before the hobbit had even formed a sentence, “I felt like it.” That the hobbit followed the simple statement by hopping over the back of the seat and curling into Dwalin’s bare side merely reinforced the warrior’s view that he wouldn’t have found someone to fit him so well anywhere else. 

 

Ori finally looked up from his book, “Master Baggins you are sitting on my foot,” he grumbled, flashing him a wink. 

Bilbo chuckled at Ori’s disgusted tone and smiled innocently, “Oh my apologies Ori,” he crooned sliding over so he was sprawled in Dwalin’s lap instead, “Is that better?”

“Yes much,” muttered Ori returning to his book and leaning further into Kili’s chest.

%

It was dark by the time Bombur looked up from his cookery book and he chuckled at the sight of the dwarf pile on the settle across the room from him, he shook his head and amended that thought-dwarf and hobbit pile. Realising that they hadn’t really eaten anything substantial all day he pushed to his feet and slipped quietly to the kitchen area they had been provided with. Not in the mood to make anything tricky he started a simple but tasty Onion soup and heated up some of the cheese bread Bilbo had made the day before. The smells wafting from the kitchen soon brought most of the company to eat, Bombur had to raise an eyebrow as Bilbo appeared with two bowls. “Kili doesn’t want to get up as Ori has fallen asleep on him,” he whispered in an aside and Bombur nodded with a soft smile.

“Aye the laddie needs some looking after,” he agreed, "Not that Dori and Nori fail to do that but I think Kili might be something special.” His smile deepened as Bilbo chuckled, “Now shoo and feed Kili.”

He was clearing up when Bilbo re-joined him later, several empty bowls piled in his arms. A short argument later saw the pair standing washing up amicably. Bombur looked at the smallest member of the company, and was amazed all over again that such a delicate looking being could have survived what Balin had described. Shaking himself he sighed and decided if no one else was going to say something he had to thank the hobbit. 

“I want to thank you Master Baggins,” he stated simply getting a confused look in response. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?” He sighed at the head shake he got in response, “Fine I want to thank you for several things. Firstly I want to thank you for opening your home to us, you didn’t have to.” He held up a hand to stop the objections he could see were coming. “No let me finish! Secondly I want to thank you for how welcome you made us feel, yes it has taken a while to trust you full but you did make us feel welcome and we are not used to anyone treating us as special guests rather than burdens.”

Bombur put the mug and cloth he was holding down and placed both his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, “Finally and most importantly I want to thank you for the response you gave to Dori’s admitions. It touched the hearts of us all as there were only five of our company of age when Erebor fell.”

“What?” Bilbo’s voice was a whisper and he was staring at Bombur with wide eyes. “Five of you?”

“Aye Master Baggins,” said Bombur clearly confused. “Oin, Gloin, Balin, Dori and my Bifur. The rest of us came of age after the dragon came. I thought you knew that.”

“Five of you?” Bilbo’s disbelief was clear and his eyes clouded with worry. “Master Bombur, how old was everyone that wasn’t of age?”

Bombur looked at the hobbit for one long moment before nodding decisively. “Right well Kili was barely two, Fili was seven. Ori was at least in long trousers he was twenty, Nori was…hmm…Nori was about forty five. Bofur is closer to Ori’s age even though he is such good friends with Nori, he was twenty nine. I was seventy five. Thorin was seventy, he is the youngest out of his siblings after all. Who’s left? Dwalin? Ah! Our warrior was sixty three when the dragon came, can you believe he fought at Azanulbizar at the age of sixty nine? Bilbo?” 

“Excuse me Master Bombur.” Bilbo’s voice was oddly flat and Bombur watched him leave the kitchen a sense of dread pooling in his belly as he remember the passionate statement of no one having the right to hurt a child.

%

Bilbo stood in the shadows of an alcove, he was shaking slightly as it sunk in. For some reason he had believed that it had been only five of the company that had been kits or tweens when the dragon came. Now he had found out he was wrong and it was only five who had been of age. Anger was flooding his veins and he clenched his fists and closed his eyes, fighting against the urge to rage against the unfairness of it all. It wouldn’t help the dwarves and it wouldn’t help his own feelings. He took a deep breath and growled low in his throat, the vow he’d made on the back door step of Bag End flooding his mind. He nodded his head decisively, tomorrow he would get Dwalin to start his weapons training. 

%

Bombur left the dried dishes in a pile on the table in the centre of the kitchen and walked quickly up to Dwalin’s side. “Dwalin!” he hissed, causing the warrior to spin around and face him. “I though he knew, I’m so sorry.” 

“Bombur what are you going on about? Who knew what? What have you to be sorry about?” There was worry and confusion in his voice.

“Bilbo,” stated Bombur simply, “I thought he knew that most of us were under age when Erebore fell.”

“Oh Mahal,” groaned Dwalin, “He didn’t take it well did he!”

“He took it far too calmly,” Bombur shook his head, “We are going to have to let him in to the particulars at some point and I can’t see calm being his prevalent emotion then.”

Dwalin just shook his head, “I need to talk to him first, I should have been the one to tell him, there are other things I need to talk to him about as well, so please just hold off for now Bombur.”


	37. Chapter 38 - Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me please.  
> We find out Nori's past. And our baby Kili's.

_Chapter Thirty Eight – Eye of the Storm._

 

Bilbo prowled the halls of Imladris unnoticed by the elves as he slunk through the shadows. His steps were silent against the aged wood as he employed all his race’s skill in staying hidden. It came naturally, as normal to him as breathing and if he had thought on it he would have been thankful that he went uninterrupted. His mind was still troubled despite his earlier decision. He had realised that he needed to know, his imagination could be making it worse than it actually was, but he also knew that he had lived a relatively sheltered life compared to the Dwarrows he now travelled with, so he may not be able begin to imagine the horrors they had faced. He frowned as he slipped by yet another pair of apparently nocturnal elves unseen, he needed to know either way. 

Finally reaching his destination he breathed a sigh of relief when his target was alone and oblivious. He slipped from the shadows carefully allowing his steps to tap against the polished wood as he crossed the room to slip into the seat opposite the dwarf. Folding his hands on the smooth wood Bilbo sat calmly as he watched the slender male opposite him finish reading the page he was perusing, an almost delicate finger following the words. When the dwarf was done Bilbo watched as he place a slim strip of delicately knotted thread into the book and carefully shut the aging cover. 

“Bilbo?” the greeting was quiet and yet Bilbo could hear the unspoken question in the calm voice. 

“Nori,” he inclined his head meeting troubled green eyes, “I have recently come into some knowledge that troubles me and I hope you will be able to enlighten me some.” He kept his voice calm and his face placid despite the war raging in his emotions. He didn’t want to scare the dwarf off before he got some answers. 

“And why do you come to me?” There was genuine curiosity behind the question and Bilbo knew he would have to tread carefully. 

“I come to you because I was hoping we could once again come to some sort of understanding.” His voice was mild and he didn’t flinch at the sharp look Nori shot him. 

“Really?” Nori raised a delicate eyebrow. “So you have questions about my past then.” The dwarf sounded resigned and yet at the same time relieved, “Very well Bilbo I take it we are going by the same rules? Just you and me. No rules, no polite guidelines, no judgement!”

“Yes Nori, as long as you don’t mind sharing it with me.” 

“I don’t mind sharing my own past Bilbo, but I will not share others’. It is not my place.”

Bilbo nodded, he had expected nothing less of the star-haired dwarf. In fact he would have been concerned if Nori had volunteered to share information about anyone else, it simply wasn’t in his nature to do so. 

Nori held Bilbo’s gaze for long moments testing the waters to see if the hobbit was serious in his questioning. He’d over heard the conversation between Bombur and Dwalin earlier that night and so was not surprised Bilbo had questions. Why he was coming to someone he knew had been underage was a surprise, but Nori could only assume he was one of the few people who hadn’t kept anything back as far as Bilbo was concerned. They had after all shared stories at Bag End, although Nori had no idea where Bilbo had gotten the bead from as he doubted the hobbit had been old enough to be rollicking about in Bree when he had taken that job on. Shrugging he settled himself more comfortably on the strangely shaped chair he had commandeered during his stint in the library. 

“Fine then. I was all of forty five when the dragon came to Erebor. If you can believe it I had actually secured a place in the intake for the royal guard, I had flown threw the training, I believe there have been only three others that have reached that position by that age since Erebor was founded…one of them was Dwalin. I was in the training ring with three others when Thorin’s voice echoed through the grounds from one of the archery ledges. I looked up in time to see several of the on duty guards fall from the upper walk ways,” Nori’s voice shook and he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to try and get his emotions in check.  


“I will never forget their screams. They were the unlucky ones, the ones not killed instantly by the dragon fire. Those who had been on the balcony stood little chance, I do not know how Thorin and Balin survived. The screaming got louder as we heard the echoing din coming from the front gates, we had become lax in our security and so the main gates, the fortified ones had been left open for nearly a decade. If they had been shut, well if they had been shut we may have stood a chance. As it were they were standing wide open with only the second and third gates to stand against the dragon’s wrath. I was in the front line of defence Bilbo. I have always been light on my feet and to this day I believe that was all that kept me alive as my friends and brothers-in-arms fell around me. Aware of his voice shaking Nori took a deep breath.

"I managed to avoid the dragon flame and the rocks thrown as it crashed through the gates, the three I had been training with they…they didn’t. Năli went down first a shard of carved marble pierced his gut, I can still hear his screams as he died. Lòni fell next, pushed one of the other guards clear of a jet of flames, he didn’t even get a chance to scream…I hope to Mahal it happened so he didn’t feel it. Ailey moved closer to me, she was a gem was Ailey, almost as fast as myself and ten times as deadly when angered. And boy was she angered. We decided it was a good idea to charge the blasted thing from the side and so we did, even as more of the guard died around us we charged. I managed to duck under the swipe from its tale. Ailey didn’t! Even over the shrieks of the dying I heard her ribs being crushed with the force of that blow. She died in my arms and if it wasn’t for Thorin pulling me away I would have died there to. We had grown up together, played together as dwarflings. Joined the guard together. It had always been the four of us and suddenly it was just me and I hadn’t been fast enough to save them. Couldn’t even offer them comfort in their last moments.”

Nori only realised his cheeks were wet when a strong hand squeezed his own, offering comfort. He looked up from where he had been inspecting the table surface, suddenly wondering if Bilbo would offer him pity or disgust. He met green-hazel eyes and saw only sadness in them, no pity and no disgust. He swallowed around his suddenly tight throat and nodded, closing his eyes momentarily as Bilbo increased the pressure on his hand. 

“I didn’t find out if Dori and Ori had survived until two years later and by the time I found them on some human settlement I had already become part of the less reputable side of life. I am not proud of the things I have done, but I did them so I would survive, then when I found my brothers so they would survive. I am not innocent Bilbo, and yes I probably could have found another way to survive but once the gangs have their claws in you it takes a very brave person to break free. I kept that side of my life hidden from Dori and Ori for all of the time our people had no where we could even settle as a people. I have more scars than I care to think about because of that time, I could never be as comfortable in my own skin as you are. Or as I discovered today as Dwalin is.” 

He smiled wryly across the table at Bilbo, flipping their hands and squeezing the hobbit’s, “I wish I could be but outside of the dwarven race people are not so forgiving of scars. I would probably be nervous to let even my One see my bare skin, it has been ingrained in my head that they are ugly and make me somewhat less than whole for so long that I wouldn’t know how to start undoing that. My collection of scars only got worse when my king called and I answered the summons. I was a well-known face to the remaining guard and a wanted dwarf by that point so I went, but I went masked. I doubt to this day if anyone other than Oin knows I was at that battle. Off all the things I’ve done, of all the crimes I’ve witnessed done to my people that was the second worst. It still haunts my dreams, even the dragon doesn’t terrify me as much as what I witnessed in that short time. Azanulbizar!” Nori breathed. Bilbo’s grip on his hand tightened and he was surprised that there was a great deal of strength in those long fingers.

Shaking himself Nori went on, “Hell on earth doesn’t even begin to cover the two weeks of war that were raged on those slopes. I saw dwarves torn limb from limb, heard the screams of injured and dying. The pain in the voices of those who lost those dear to them. I saw my king fall and the next in line to the thrown run like a coward leaving his youngest son to lead our armies against what was becoming an unbeatable foe. I saw Lady Skena standing tall by Thorin’s side, Dwalin at his other side. I saw Balin leading a small group, more grossly outnumbered than the rest of us to take out archers on the parapets above us. I saw people I’d grown up alongside fall unable to do more than try to keep standing myself. Exhaustion and fear were sapping the will to keep fighting from us, and yet that same bone deep fear kept us all on those slopes, terrified that if we dropped our guard for even a second a black arrow would burrow itself in our backs. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Thorin take out the ugliest orc you will ever have nightmares about, it distracted me so much that an orc blade ripped my right leg from hip to midcalf.”

Nori rubbed his chest unconsciously as long buried memories started to worm their way to the surface of his mind. “In the few seconds I reeled in pain a huge orc had somehow gotten close to Thorin. The next thing I remember was waking up in a makeshift tent, mind hazy from being unconscious for so long and agony ripping through my chest with every breath I took. Oin, bless his soul, had found my body on the battlefield and even in his own pain recognised I was still alive. He later told me that others had passed me by, thinking I was dead simple because of the sheer damage to my chest. Apparently even us dwarves can’t take an orcen morning star to the chest at full orc strength. Who knew?” 

Nori gave a self-conscious laugh at the expression on Bilbo’s face, he could have sworn for a moment that the hobbit didn’t know whether to hug him, clip him around the ear or cry.

“Hey I survived,” he dared add softly, “Let’s not get emotional, or you’ll set me off again.” When he was shot an unimpressed look from the white faced hobbit sitting opposite him Nori decided to change tactics. “So anyway, thanks to Oin I survived, even if I’ll never reach the same chest span as a normal dwarf and my life got a bit better after that. Thorin led what was left of our people to the Blue Mountains and we started to build a home there. Fair enough it wasn’t home, but we had shelter and food and some of us even managed to set up trades. I still didn’t manage to full escape the thieves’ guild but I used that contact to help the line of Durin, I’ve been passing information to the Lady Dis for the past forty years.”

Nori took a deep breath and smiled at Bilbo, alibit shakily. He suddenly found himself dragged half way across the table and in an unbreakable hug. “I’m wrapping you all up in bloody blankets and not letting you out until you all promise you will stop thinking you are invincible.” That Bilbo’s voice was muffled in Nori’s neck didn’t hide the emotion in it and Nori could feel himself welling up even before Bilbo spoke again. “I swear you are all insane, but somehow you have wormed your way passed my walls and are firmly entrenched. Even your bloody crown prince!”

Nori gave a short laugh as he was pushed back into his seat and swatted around the back of the head. Bilbo sat back from him and chuckled mirthlessly. “Your scars are nothing to be ashamed of you know,” he didn’t know why he was going down this line of conversation, it wasn’t something he wanted to really share with anyone, but he suspected out of everyone Nori would benefit most. “I had that brought home to me today. That’s what the argument between myself and Dwalin was about this morning.”

Deciding to be blunt Bilbo shrugged out of his shirt and turned his back to Nori, “Shit!”

“Aye Nori,” he turned back around pulling his shirt on as he did. He felt one eyebrow shoot up at the pained expression on the dwarf’s face, “Although from that look I don’t have to tell you what caused them.”

“No Balin explained about those…those…things,” that Nori was practically spitting had Bilbo raising the other eyebrow. 

“Tell me he hasn’t?” Bilbo knew he sounded terrified at that second, but couldn’t help it. The thought that someone he knew had gone through what he had made him sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes at Nori’s nod, “Explains why he didn’t say anything when he saw my back at Bag End then.”

“Honestly I don’t know Bilbo. Although I am confused as to how you survived such an injury especially now I know just how much damage they can do.” Bilbo winced as he remembered, “Sorry really not tactful of me.”

“It’s fine Nori I asked. I think sheer stubbornness played a very large part in it. The injuries themselves weren’t that different from what can happen if there is carelessness during the harvest season and so our healers can treat the blood-loss and actual wounds, we struggle a bit more with infection but the older healers do still know their stuff. As to how we can survive the actual initial injury, well, we are created by the wife of Mahal. Do you honestly think she wouldn’t make her children strong in their own way? In more simple terms while our skin and muscle may tear as easily a humans, our bones are more like dwarves’ in comparison. We have an inbuilt defence mechanism that prevents our bodies going into shock, we go into a sort of hibernation. Our heart rates and breathing drop to a point where most other races would struggle to maintain life.”

He shrugged at the surprised look on Nori’s face, “While I would prefer that not to be spread around I can understand the intelligence of one or two members of the company knowing,” he suggested.

“I’ll let Oin know where Dwalin and Bifur can over hear.”

“Thank you Nori, I’ll leave you to your peace.” Bilbo slipped from the library even as Nori was nodding. 

%

Fears confirmed Bilbo sagged in the shadows breathing deeply for a few moments. He wiped at his wet cheeks, allowing the tears he wouldn’t let Nori see fall for a few moments as he grieved for his friend’s lost childhood. Pushing from the wall Bilbo swiped once more at his cheeks and slipped through the shadows to find his next target. 

Kili jumped a clear foot in the air when Bilbo slipped through his door without knocking. “Dammit!” he yelped, “Don’t bloody well do that!” 

“Sorry Kili,” Bilbo’s knew his voice was too calm the second Kili fixed him with a sharp stare. Bilbo watched as those dark eyes widened, “How bad was it Kili?”

“How bad was…Oh!” Kili sunk onto the bed, “Oh so you’ve found out!” When Bilbo merely looked at him the young dwarf sighed. “I had it easier than others Bilbo so I’m probably not the best person to ask.”

“Kili I am not asking about the others,” Bilbo moved and sank onto the bed beside the brunette, raising the dwarf’s chin so he was looking into his eyes rather than at their feet, “I am asking about you.”

Kili’s eyes filled with tears that he dashed away abruptly before they fell. “Honestly I can’t remember Erebor, So I don't really know anything else and I don't dream of dragon fire and death. I’m on this quest for my uncles and my mother. My childhood wasn’t filled with joy though, I was two when the dragon came, a burden to be carted around the wilds preventing my mother being able to properly defend her people or answer her grandfather’s call.” He winced at how angry he sounded but Bilbo’s simple statement seemed to have broken the dam and he couldn’t stop.

“My first proper memory is of my mother’s wailing, beating her fists against Uncle Thorin’s chest and he just stood there and took it. He was covered in blood and dirt, bruises and cuts, with tears streaming down his own face and he let her hit him until she tired and then dragged her into a hug. Uncle Dwalin and Balin were curled up in the corner in no better state than Thorin. I can remember wondering where Aunt Skena was, why my father wasn’t with them.” He shrugged sadly, “It didn’t take me long after that to fully understand what death and loss were. It seemed not a day went by that we didn’t get news of someone secumbering to their wounds or grief. I can remember curling up with Fili for warmth, our stomachs rumbling despite the fact Amad had gone without so we could have something to eat. My nightmares aren’t the same as many of the older dwarves. I don’t dream of bloody battles and orc raids.” 

He shivered and leant into the arm Bilbo wrapped around his waist, trying to draw strength from the hobbit. He had pushed this memory far away from him, so far it barely surfaced but for his nightmare. Swallowing he went on in low voice, “My nightmares are filled with the leering faces of men. Rough hands grasping at my arms and hips – hard enough to leave bruises. Of Fili being beaten because he punched the bastard that tried…that tried…I!” A sob shook his narrow frame and as the horror ran threw his mind he curled up against Bilbo’s chest, fisting his hands in the thin shirt. 

Bilbo swore mentally and wrapped his arms around Kili’s narrow frame. He wanted to hurt something badly, but his first priority was the sobbing dwarf in his arms. He settled back more comfortably and started to rub soothing circles on the sobbing dwarf’s back, running soft fingers through the dark hair as he sung a gentle lullaby. Slowly Kili’s sobbing eased and the dwarf sniffled unhappily. “I’m sorry Kili,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Kili pushed off Bilbo’s chest expecting to see pity, he found horror in the green-hazel eyes and felt his own widen despite their puffy state. “Gloin came in then, stupid human learnt that you don’t lay a hand on dwarven young that day. I’ve never seen Gloin so livid. Sorry for crying on you by the way. I don’t know what came over me. That was the worst of my childhood, I mean we were cold a lot and hungry a lot, but we never starved and never actually froze and Amad made our clothes by hand. I still get twitchy in human settlements though.”

He sighed and slumped back against Bilbo’s chest, “Bilbo?” 

“Hmm?”

“Erm…well since you are with Uncle Dwalin now does that make you Uncle Bilbo?”

Bilbo started soothing his hand over the mess he’d made of Kili’s hair, “Do you want me to be?”

“Yes.”

“That settles it then I guess I’m Uncle Bilbo.”

“Awesome!” Kili jumped up, rushing to the door, before running back to pull Bilbo into a massive hug. “I gotta go tell Fi!” Bilbo sagged against the bed rubbing his ribs as he stared at the open door of Kili’s room. 

“They definitely make me feel old.” He sighed before pushing to his feet and leaving to head back to his own bed. 

%

Dwalin hadn’t been able to find Bilbo when he’d gone looking and so had retreated back to the hobbit’s bedroom to wait for the smaller male turning up. As he sat on the bed he wondered just how he was supposed to approach anything they needed to talk about. Groaning he sat on the edge of the bed and flopped backwards, throwing an arm across his eyes. He did wonder why Bilbo hadn’t come straight to him first but then realised the hobbit probably needed time to absorb the fact that most of them hadn’t been of age when they had all gone through hell. And Dwalin didn’t doubt Bilbo had a better idea of what they had faced then most people. He groaned.

“Well I must admit I certainly wasn’t expecting to come back to quite such a greeting.”

“Crap!” yelped Dwalin, bolting upright. “Do you sneak everywhere?” 

Bilbo pouted, “I don’t sneak anywhere, I can’t help it that I walk naturally quietly. I am beginning to think you are all just deaf.” He yawned as he pulled his shirt off, “We should probably talk but I am finding I am rather tired.”

“Yeah, we really do need to talk we seem to always get distracted by something.” Mumbled Dwalin shifting so he slid further up the bed as Bilbo climbed onto it.

“Yes we do.” Grunted Bilbo settling with his back to Dwalin’s chest and sighed as warm arms wrapped around his waist and the dwarf rested his chin on the top of his curls. “Do you want to start Dwalin or should I?” he asked resting his arms on the top of Dwalin’s muscular ones. 

“I will.” Dwalin chewed his lip for a moment, “I need to apologise for not telling you just how old I was when everything happened. I know I had vaguely said that a lot of us were under age, but I didn’t correct you when you assumed there were only five of the company underage when the dragon came.” He took courage when Bilbo gently squeezed his arms. “I don’t really want to go into my past tonight though, but I will if you need me to.”

“I want to know Dwalin, but you don’t need to tell me until you are ready. I understand enough about your people’s history to know it wasn’t nice for you. Also if I have another one of these conversations tonight I will cry like a little girl again and I don’t think my brain can take the overload of emotions.” He tilted his head and pressed a kiss to the side of Dwalin’s jaw.

“Hmmm, tomorrow then?” rumbled Dwalin. Sliding until he was lying down as Bilbo twisted around in his arms to drape across his chest.

“Tomorrow,” Bilbo echoed locking eyes with Dwalin’s grey ones, “Now shut up and kiss me!”


	38. Chapter 39 - Rose of Sharyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is finally and completely driven home to Thorin that he has been an ass.

_Chapter Thirty Nine – Rose of Sharyn. ___

Bilbo had awoke with the sun and stretching pressed a kiss to a still sleeping Dwalin’s lips. He was still wrapped in his dwarf’s ridiculously muscle bound arms and found himself stupidly pleased by that fact. The sun filtered through the fine fabric of the white curtains bathing the room in a soft light and the birds were singing outside of his window. He allowed his eyes to travel over Dwalin’s chest and stomach, gently tracing over the line of a slightly darker scar than the other silver lines criss-crossing the muscled form. Warm hands caught his and he looked up with a soft smile.

“Tickles,” chuckled Dwalin sleepily, his voice velvety due to him just waking up. Bilbo swallowed as the dwarf shifted slightly causing his muscles to ripple. 

“Sorry,” mumbled Bilbo, smile still on his face, “I didn’t mean to wake you. 

“You didn’t noisy birds did,” mumbled Dwalin leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Bilbo’s lips, “Morning.”

“Morning,” Bilbo couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face, “Why don’t we get up, I’ll make us some breakfast and we can go some place quiet to talk?” 

“Sure,” Dwalin wrapped his arm around the slender waist of the hobbit at his side, “But first I want a proper kiss.”

“We’ll get nothing done today if you kiss me properly,” muttered Bilbo leaning closer all the same. He swallowed as he glanced down Dwalin’s body, the way the dwarf was leaning back on his elbows made the shadow play on the muscles all the more prominent.

“I can live with that,” growled Dwalin, “Now shut up and kiss me!”

Bilbo smirked as his own words were quoted back at him before he sealed their lips together. He tried to keep it chaste as he really wanted them to talk, but Dwalin had other ideas and Bilbo found himself lying on his back, the dwarf settled between his legs as the taller male deepened the kiss. Rough fingers tracing patterns on his bare sides had him groaning into the kiss and arching against Dwalin’s chest. He felt the dwarf smirk into the kiss as a large hand crept under his arched back and blunt nails dragged across his scars. He gasped, tilting his head back and breaking the kiss without realising he had done so. 

Dwalin paused, worried he’d hurt the hobbit for a few moments before he took in the expression on the smaller male’s face. His smirk returned and he dipped his head to place an open mouthed kiss on a prominent collar bone. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back and he found himself staring up into clouded green-hazel eyes as Bilbo straddled his hips. 

Dwalin licked his own lips and watched in amazement as Bilbo swallowed, eyes fluttering shut for a second before a dangerous smirk settled across his face. Soft fingers traced the scar they had been following earlier before Bilbo bent almost double and licked a strip straight up it. The movement of the hobbit against his body and the hot wet heat across his stomach had Dwalin gripping the sheets and gasping. When he opened his eyes again it was to see Bilbo watching him with a contemplative expression on his face, unable to help himself he swallowed. The hands against his chest hadn’t stopped moving, continuing tracing the may tattoos and scars he bore with pride. He shivered slightly as he realised the additions to his skin had made it more sensitive to the soft touches Bilbo was lavishing on it. As short nails scrapped gently across one of the dark symbols on his ribs Dwalin realised he would never be able to resist that touch, and when a rough fingertip traced a scar that twisted around his lower left arm it hit him hard that his body was covered. Nails across his lower stomach brought him back to the present and he met Bilbo’s mouth readily groaning deeply into the kiss as clever fingers skated across his skin. 

Bilbo chuckled mentally at how easy it was for him to become addicted to the dwarf shivering beneath him, with a reluctant sigh he drew back and dodging the hand that shot out to stop him, backed to the door. “Now, now Dwalin, we need to eat and we need to talk,” he shrugged into a shirt he found by the entrance to his room grimacing at the brown colour, “Also I want you to start my weapons training today if you feel up to it.” He paused by the now open door and smiled at a grumpy looking Dwalin.

“Oh fine,” grumbled Dwalin, not at all happy with how the morning now looked set to go but unable to argue that they needed to talk. He untangled himself from the last of the covers and rolled to his feet, “Do I have a shirt today?”

Bilbo’s laugh shocked him, “Aye it is folded on the chair.”

Dwalin nodded and shooed the smaller man from the room as he crossed to the chair and his shirt. 

Bilbo sauntered across the communal area and into the kitchen laughter still shaking his shoulders. He set about cooking with joy, finding the cupboards had been restocked only increased his good mood and he decided to relish it until his talk with Dwalin, because that was going to be hard on both of them. Whistling he cracked half a dozen eggs in to an iron skillet, growling as the fat splashed on his hand before shrugging and deciding he might as well make more food as there was no doubt the smells would draw more of the company. A noise at the door had him looking up and confirmed his belief. Fili and Kili stood there looking cutely sleep ruffled and about twenty years younger for it. He smiled widely and gestured for them to come in, he wasn’t expecting the two quick hugs he got as they passed him and rubbed his cheeks where the smile was starting to hurt. 

They sat obediently at the table and watched obediently as Bilbo bustled around the kitchen. Fili had been surprised when Kili had burst into his room the previous night and it had taken a while to see passed his brother’s blinding smile to the tear tracks on his cheeks, but the youngest Durin had put his mind at ease as he explained just why he had been crying and why he was so happy now. They had stayed up late talking about anything and everything before being woken this morning with the smell of what was undoubtedly Bilbo’s cooking.

As he watched the smaller male almost dance around the kitchen Fili couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched across his face, he’d gained a friend and an uncle. He started to hum along to the whistling Bilbo had started up again and looked around at Kili taking happiness in the soft smile on his baby brother’s face. He had thought Kili was too young to be going on this journey with them, but had been unable to be parted from his younger brother for very long and besides he was only just of age himself. He twisted back around to peer at the kitchen door when Kili waved over his shoulder and his grin grew wider when he saw their Uncle Dwalin leaning against the doorframe. 

“Morning boys,” Fili giggled a bit as his uncle’s grey eyes only flickered to them before landing back on Bilbo. 

Kili’s giggle joined his as Bilbo shot Dwalin a wicked grin, “Join the boys and I’ll plate up shortly.” Fili tried to force his own laughter down as Bilbo turned to them and raised an eyebrow, “Boys do you want eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, eggy breads and black pudding?” he asked even as he slid a piled up plate in front of Dwalin. 

Fili felt his eyes widen and he caught sight of Kili nodding furiously to one side of him, “Yes please Uncle Bilbo.”

Dwalin froze but Bilbo’s smile only got wider and so Fili didn’t worry. 

“That’s new,” grunted Dwalin as he reached across the table for the jug of steaming coffee Bilbo had set down only moments before. Fili grinned widely at him and got a wary eye roll in response, he was distracted when Bilbo slid a full plate in front of him and fell on the food with abandon. 

Bilbo chuckled softly as he slid in next to Dwalin, adding pepper to his own plate. He watched Fili and Kili eat out of the corner of his eye and realised that they had fell upon the food with the same relish as a hungry tween back home so at least they trusted him that much now. He groaned as he took a long draw of the hot coffee, there were some things he really missed on the road and coffee was top of the list. He glanced around taking in the shocked expressions on Fili and Kili’s faces, “Sorry boys I like coffee,” he noticed their plates were nearly empty and pushed to his feet, “Do you want some more?”

Suitably distracted they nodded and he happily filled their plates up again. A noise at the door had him waving whoever was there in and he merely chuckled when Ori and Bofur almost rushed to the table. 

“Food?” Bofur was staring wide eyed at the piled plates of Fili and Kili. 

Ori swatted him around his hatless head, “Manners!” he snapped, before groaning, “Oh Mahal I sounded like Dori. Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

Bilbo laughed out loud as he place full plates in front of both of them followed quickly by two mugs, “In the earthen ware jug Ori,” he ruffled the dwarf’s hair as he passed on his way back to the stove, “Were any of the rest of the company stirring when you passed?”

Bofur looked up, swallowing his mouthful of food, “I think Nori and Bif will be here shortly they were arguing outside.” Information departed he fell with abandon back to his food. 

Bilbo rolled his eyes, “Well that was informative,” he muttered under his breath, “Fine. There is food under the brass dish things and if they want more coffee they will have to make it.” He grabbed an apple and crunched into it with relish the sweet, sharp taste making him smile, “I am going to hunt down a book.”

Dwalin pushed back from the table and stood, “I’ll come with you.”

%

Left alone in the kitchen the four young dwarves looked at each other and giggled.

Kili was finished with the cooked portion of his breakfast and was picking at the grapes he’d found. “How old do you think Uncle Bilbo is?”

Fili looked up as Ori and Bofur choked slightly, “What he’s with Uncle Dwalin and he said we could call him it.” He refrained from sticking his tongue out and turned with great dignity to Kili, “I’m not sure brother. He did say he didn’t think any of us were younger than him, but he seems about the same age as Uncle Dwalin and Thorin.”

Bofur shook his head, making a conscious effort to swallow the food in his mouth before he spoke, “He canna be that young, I mean you heard Balin y’sterday. No way a wee one would’a survived tha’. It would’a been ‘bout owa tirty years ago. If he were our age he’d a been nought more than a bairn.”

Ori shook his head gesturing with his fork, “None of us are all that old to be making assumptions Bofur, besides what do we know about hobbits, for all we know he could be older than the whole company.” He took a long draw of coffee before seeming to come to a decision. He reached inside his sleep tunic and pulled out a leather wrapped bundle of papers. “Here read these. The reference he refers to has been lost since Erebor fell and from his notes he’s seen the original.” 

Even Bofur stopped eating to look at the notes, “I cannee read,” He admitted sounding ashamed, “But even I recognise that symbol,” he held a forefinger just above a delicately scribed star. 

Fili nodded. “I don’t think we are going to find out unless he tells us,” he huffed.

Kili nodded, “He has to be older than us, I mean he acts like amad and Uncle Thorin rolled into one.” He flashed Ori a smile, “None of us can read this Ori it’s De KhuzdTunng. You’ll have to read it to us.” He suddenly looked wary, “That is if you don’t mind because I know you have better things to be doing than reading to us.”

Fili caught Bofur’s eye and gestured with his head that they should leave, the miner nodded and they slipped quietly from the kitchen Ori’s voice following them, “I wouldn’t mind reading it out loud to you Kili as long as it won’t bore you to death.”

Bofur met Fili’s eye and without warning the slightly younger dwarf, linked him and dragged him down the hall. “Your brother has a wee crush me thinks,” he chuckled.

“Yeah I’m beginning to think that Bofur.” Fili fought down the blush that was threatening to spread over his face, for once cursing the fact he’d inherited his father’s skin tone. “Although he’s not of age Ki’s always known his own mind and somehow I doubt it is just simply a crush.”

Bofur shot the blond a sharp look, “Well if that’s the case he’s going the right way about courting our Ori.” He shook his head, “I am surprised you didn’t wanna stay and hear what it was about.” 

Fili looked at the dwarf on his arm from under his eyelashes, “While I like history I had enough of it shoved down my throat by Balin in these last few years.” He smiled warmly at the miner taking a leap, “Besides I would rather you taught me more about toy making. I still haven’t mastered been able to carve the simplest of things.” 

He was rewarded by Bofur smiling brilliantly at him, “Well if you are sure you’d rather spend time learning from a miner than listening to Ori narrate I can’t refuse you.” He tugged Fili onto the sunlit terrace. “Why do you want to learn to carve toys anyway?”

Fili looked out at the herb garden that the terrace opened out on to, “I want to impress someone and I can’t think of a better way of doing it.” He turned to look at Bofur and cursed mentally at the blank look the miner was supporting before it was wiped away by the normal sunny smile. 

“Well in that case we better get working,” the joyful lilt was back in Bofur’s voice and Fili wondered if the dwarf even realised that the courting practice could apply to him. He smiled slightly more warmly at the miner’s next words. “Although they be one special dwarf that you have set your eyes on them Fili.”

%

Bilbo and Dwalin walked quietly along the corridors of Rivendell, their elbows occasionally brushed and they ignored the curious looks they were drawing from the elves. Dwalin realised they weren’t actually going to the library and linked his hand with one of Bilbo’s tugging the hobbit to a stop, “This way.” 

Bilbo followed without objection merely wrapped his fingers around Dwalin’s. He gasped when Dwalin drew him through a garden door. It was beautiful. There were brilliantly coloured climbers wrapping the red brick walls and the paths were of bark rather than white gravel. The flower beds were full of poppies, cornflowers, lupins and hollyhocks. While pots overflowed with forget-me-nots and daisies, in one corner stood an obviously ancient apple tree. 

He spun around and planted a kiss on Dwalin’s lips. “How did you find it?”

Dwalin chuckled and linking his arm through Bilbo’s walked slowly to an emerald green painted bench, “I went wandering the day after you agreed to court me.” He admitted, sinking onto the sun-warmed wood and pulling Bilbo into his side. “I thought instantly of you when I found it. Compared to the bland elegant whiteness of Rivendell’s buildings and the composed lines of the rest of the gardens I’d found it was full of life. Full of warmth.” He pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s temple, “I’m a dwarf I’m not supposed to appreciate plants and what not, but I felt at home here. I suppose it reminded me of the day we spent wandering around the Shire.” He shook his head, “Sappy I know.”

Bilbo turned his head and looked into Dwalin’s eyes, “Not sappy it was a beautiful thought.” He raised their entwined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Dwalin’s, “Thank you.”

Dwalin tilted Bilbo’s face up and dropped a chaste kiss to his lips, “When I realised you actually wanted to talk and not go to the library I thought of here and how we wouldn’t be disturbed.” He squeezed the fingers he held, “I might never want to share my past but I need you to know.” He knew he sounded nervous, but he didn’t want his hobbit to think any less of him. 

Bilbo nodded, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but anything you do tell me will never change my opinion to the worst of you.” He pressed a kiss to Dwalin’s lips, “I will not judge you for your history Dwalin, I promise.”

Dwalin swallowed and closing his eyes slowly nodded. “I was but a…I believe you call them tweens…when the dragon came to Erebor, only sixty three in fact. I was out on the slopes patrolling when a hot wind whistled down the mountain side and the pines around us creaked and moaned as if in pain. Needles rained down on us as the bells and horns of Dale started to sound signalling an attack. The squad and myself rushed down towards the paths so we could gather troops to go to their aid.”

He swallowed and lowered his head, “We came to a point where we could see the city. It was burning Bilbo. The tall towers barely held on their jagged edges silhouetted against the smoke and the screams…oh Mahal the screams. Men, women and children being burnt alive. We knew there and then we couldn’t help them, but we still hurried for the stables so we could reach them. A shadow passed over us as we rode, we halted and checked the skies for threats but could see none. It took us half a day to reach the walls and the smell has haunted me ever since, our ponies shied and threw us as if there was some evil present in the very stones of the ancient walls, bolting towards the shadow of the green wood. We didn’t even get a chance to enter the now hauntingly silent walls of the town when our own people’s alarm horns sounded. We heard the crash of stones being ripped from their lodgings and spinning around we could see smoke bellowing from the archery balconies. We abandoned our training and ran as quickly as we could towards the mountain, it was useless of course, it had taken us half a day on ponies there was no way we could have reached it to make a difference. By the time we got anywhere near it was dark and our people were standing around watching as dark smoke billowed from the gates.”

Dwalin shook his head, eyes unseeing, “It took three of my patrol to hold me back. Apparently I was screaming in rage and trying to get to the mountain to find my brother, sister and the royal family. It was only when Dis smacked me around the face that I stopped fighting. She was ash stained, with tear tracks cutting clean lines on her cheeks. Kili was strapped to her back and a shaking Fili was clinging to her legs. That’s the only time Fili has initiated a hug in his entire life, I must have dropped to my knees at the look in her eyes as I suddenly had a small blonde dwarfling hanging around my neck. I can’t begin to tell you my relief when Balin and Skena, pulled me into a choke hold, even with poor Fili still clinging to me. My heart rose even further when Thorin and Vili pushed their way through the hysterical crowds to us, before falling when I realised that if Frerin wasn’t by their side he was still inside that mountain. We were forbidden by the king to return into its halls to search for injured, we had to leave them to die, we didn’t know if we were leaving loved ones alive or dead.” 

He had started to shake slightly, but didn’t realise it. He could barely feel that Bilbo hadn’t moved, but the small part of his mind that registered it took some comfort from the fact. He cleared his throat.

“I learnt later that Thranduil hadn’t offered any aid and we found that as homeless wanderers the elven king wanted little to do with us. He even refused aid to our injured and old and young. With it being close to winter we lost as many people to ill and cold as we lost to the dragon under those Mahal forsaken trees. I stayed with the royal family for the six years we wandered the wilds. I proudly followed my king to the slopes of Azanulbizar, in my youth believing that his reasoning was sound. I almost wished I hadn’t. I lost so much there. Being a royal guard and one of the best fighters in the seven dwarven kingdoms doesn’t prepare you for war. The battle raged on over the course of two weeks. The orcs seemed without end. By the end of that time I was deaf to pleas of fear and screams of pain, my stomach had stopped revolting with every horror I witnessed. Although that may have been lack of food. Then I saw my king fall.” 

Dwalin swallowed, his voice rough. “Breath a second Dwalin,” Bilbo’s voice was soft and low, and Dwalin could feel himself complying even through his mental pain. Patterns were being traced on the back of his hand and he focused on Bilbo’s fingers. 

“Thrain disappeared we didn’t know whether he was dead or just gone mad. Thorin was younger than me and we rushed to stand by his side. There was no way we were leaving him alone. We were besieged and he fought like the devil himself. Skena lost her mind, what she saw that caused her to snap I don’t know ,but she left the formation, her battle cry rallied dwarf after dwarf to her. I took a blow to the head that brought me to my knees and somehow ended up separated from Thorin. The orc that had struck me went down with a dwarven arrow in its throat and by the time I got my bearings Thorin was standing alone against a massive pale skinned orc and Skena was surrounded by several pike wielding bastards. She was holding her own and I turned back to attempt to get to Thorin’s side as he had lost his shield and was slowly being backed up. I couldn’t see Balin, but knew Vili was close by as yellow fletched dwarven arrows were holding the smaller orcs back from swarming Thorin. I was almost to Thorin’s side when a scream caught my attention.”

He was shaking badly now locked in the memory and his breathing was harsh as it floated in his mind’s eye. “I can’t Bilbo, I saw them die and I wasn’t fast enough or good enough to save them.” He was sobbing now and curled up without protest in Bilbo’s eyes, “I watched them destroyed in front of me! My big brother and my baby sister. I…”

Bilbo’s heart broke and he wrapped his arms tighter around Dwalin’s shoulders. Shaking with repressed tears himself he merely held his dwarf, running gentle fingers through his hair. 

%

It was passed midday when Thorin found them. Dwalin had cried himself into an exhausted sleep and Bilbo was sitting staring at a flowering Rose of Sharyn, tears still running down his cheeks. 

Thorin checked himself from starting to rage, “What happened?” he asked softly.

 

Bilbo didn’t answer his question, “Did you know us Shire folk grow the Rose of Sharyn at our places of memorial? We believe they help any hobbit who died a violent death find peace.”

Thorin flinched as Bilbo talked the hobbit’s voice sounded almost dead and when the smaller male finally turned his head do look at him Thorin could see a mirad of emotions in his eyes. “What happened?” he asked again, unable to keep the tremor from his voice. 

“Dwalin was telling me about the Battle of Azanulbizar.” Bilbo’s voice was still flat and as Thorin watched the hobbit running soothing fingers through Dwalin’s hair even though the dwarf was asleep he realised the smaller male was deliberately holding back emotions. 

“He lost a great deal that day,” Thorin admitted, “And he has blamed himself ever since no matter what we told him.” He stepped over to the flower Bilbo had been staring at and gently touched its petals. “You are good for him,” he admitted not looking at the hobbit, “I have not seen him open up about those days to anyone. He just will not talk about them. The rest of us talked our losses through and helped each other through the loss, he withdrew from us all.” He turned and fixed Bilbo with a look. “Do not let him withdraw from you.” 

Face and voice still emotionless Bilbo nodded back at him slowly and Thorin felt an irrational need to shake the smaller male, “Don’t worry Thorin I won’t.” Bilbo glanced at down at Dwalin before shooting Thorin a sharp look, “Why are you here?”

Thorin swallowed. “Honestly I came looking for you but I decided that now probably wasn’t the best time,” he admitted.

Bilbo’s forehead wrinkled, “Why were you looking for me?” He locked his gaze with Thorin’s and the dwarf felt about twenty again. 

“I…erm…Fili and Kili saw your back yesterday and Nori asked and Balin told and I…erm…” He stuttered to a stop as Bilbo closed his eyes in a show of pain. 

“And you didn’t know how someone as sheltered as I managed to get on the wrong side of an orc slayer?” 

“What?” Dwalin it seemed had woken up just in time to hear Bilbo’s statement, “The scars, that’s what they are off?”

“Yes Dwalin, are you okay?” Thorin shook his head content to remain in the background, although he was still surprised that the hobbit put the dwarves first. He was obviously more concerned about Dwalin than talking about a painful part of his life.

Dwalin it seemed was the same with his concern for the hobbit, “Yes. Yes I am fine. Where did you come across one of those kul, barathaz drakh?” he demanded. Hands running over Bilbo’s shoulders. 

“In the Shire. While the Fell Winter may have been the worst we have faced our borders are often skirted by unsavoury characters.” Bilbo’s voice sounded bored and Thorin raised an eyebrow even as Dwalin growled in warning. 

“Okay fine what do you want to know Dwalin?” Thorin flinched at the sharp tone of the hobbit’s voice even as Dwalin merely looked unimpressed.

“Do you want to know that little Jenny had been missing for two days and we had all been called in to search the lands surrounding Tookborough for her corpse? Well we were. Saradoc had heard rumours that orcs had been seen on his borders and was terrified he’d lost another family member and not one of us blamed him. I was the one that found her. She was curled up on the ground shaking in fear even as the skum circled around her. A huge orc pushed its way through the crowd and instead of getting angry they laughed gleefully. I saw the weapon that was hanging at its side and I knew then that there was no way on earth Jenny would have survived a blow from a single one of those thongs.” 

Thorin felt like he was intruding as Dwalin leant forward and placed his forehead against Bilbo’s, he was relieved when the hobbit’s voice was still strong if a bit sheepish. “Apparently hobbit’s can be very loud when we are angered and we hit a lot. My yell had alerted the rest of the search party that I had found her and I was held between three orcs as the bloody thing turned its attention from Jenny to me. Not my greatest moment, but I had knocked one of them out. I don’t remember much other than a lot of shouting in the black tongue and then excruciating agony. When I came too it was three months later and I was lying on my front in the Thain’s smial. They’d grabbed Jenny while the orcs were distracted and thankfully Saradoc can still wield a bow and took the big guy out before he could land more than one blow.”

“Damn.” Muttered Thorin quietly.

“Aye Thorin,” huffed Bilbo not raising his forehead from Dwalin’s, “Now can you see why I didn’t bring it up?”

 

“You saved that lassies life Bilbo,” Thorin swallowed at the emotion in his oldest friend’s voice and subtly cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two alone.” Bilbo raised a hand in farewell and Dwalin grunted as Thorin slipped through the gate. He sighed when he was out of the garden room and leant heavily against the brick wall, rubbing his hands briskly over his face. He definitely hadn’t seen that one coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kul, barathaz drakh = black, bloody deamon.


	39. Chapter 40 - Too Many Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur and Nori.

_Chapter Forty – Too Many Tears. ___

Fili closed his eyes and swallowed hard as Bofur's mittened hands closed around his own. He knew he should have mastered this simple cut by now, but the closeness of the miner was a constant distraction, he was just relieved that Bofur seemed to have endless patience with him. Growling softly to himself Fili straightened his shoulders and picked up the block of practice wood and the whittling knife again, in his determination he missed the startled look he received for his growl. He desperately tried to pay attention as Bofur guided his hands, he wanted to make a good impression on the older dwarf and yet all he seemed to be coming across was as a bumbling fool who had a crush on someone else.

He narrowed his eyes at the block of wood as Bofur removed his hands from his own, and carefully made a small cut in the wood. His blue eyes widened as a smooth shaving followed the blade of the knife, he carefully placed the knife and block of wood down and picked the shaving up, rolling it gently between his fingers in disbelief. He turned to Bofur unable to help the smile curling the corners of his lips, he held out the shaving wondering just why his hand was shaking.

Bofur took the shaving from Fili's fingers with a wry smile of his own, it had taken the prince a while to get to that point, but (and Bofur would never had admitted this) it was still a shorter time than it had taken him. He barely glanced at the wood he held before discarding it and carefully grasping Fili's hands in his own. He ignored the questioning noise the prince made and turned the tanned hands over checking for cuts, satisfied Fili wasn't hurt he patted one of them gently and turned away from the prince towards the block of wood. He pocketed the knife taking note of the shaking of the blonde's hands.

"I think we'll call it a day Master Fili." He shook his head to forestall any protests, "No point rushing things, if ye do ye'll jus' end up makin' bigg'r mistakes and losing a finger." 

Bofur chuckled at the slight pout Fili was now supporting, twirling the block of wood between his fingers he came to a decision. He peeled off one of his woollen mittens causing Fili to gasp and blush beside him, he shot the blonde dwarf an odd look and pointed at a long silver coloured scar running the length of his right thumb, "See that I did that coz I go' cocky when I was learnin' to carve." 

He bit his lip a second as Fili grabbed his hand and pulled it closer for a closer look. He had obviously been wearing his mittens for too long if the feeling of someone touching his hands felt strange. "Ah now Master Fili my hands aren' tha' interestin' to look at," he objected trying to free the appendage.

Fili stopped trying to examine the scars on Bofur's hand and shot him a confused look, "Why do you do that Bofur?" he asked yet didn't release the hand he had captured. When he was shot a befuddled look he decided to elaborate, "You seem to think that you aren't interesting. I can honestly say I have never met anyone like you, ever." He traced the misshapen knuckled with a finger, "See I would love to ask you how you came by that scar?" he pointed at a dark blue line across three of the miner's knuckles, "Or ask what occurred to give you this one." 

He flipped Bofur's wrecked hand as he talked and traced an almost purple coloured one that graced the palm. He finally released Bofur's hand and watched sadly as the miner pulled his mitten back on, although sadness was replaced by curiosity when he noticed a light blush dusting the be-hatted dwarf's cheeks. He tore his eyes away from Bofur and gazed out across the herb garden, swinging his legs up so his feet rested on the handrail. "You know I bet you could tell me some stories Bofur," Fili glanced at his own unscarred barely calloused hands and dropped his voice so that the dwarf behind him couldn't hear, "And I would listen to them all."

Bofur watched Fili carefully as the blonde dwarf turned away from him, he'd caught a glimpse of something in those brilliant blue eyes, but had been unable to place it. He was concerned with how melancholy the prince had become when he had brushed off his hands as being uninteresting. It was flattering in its own way that Fili seemed to want to be his friend, more so when the dwarf's heart was so obviously taken with someone else, Bofur could only assume that he reminded the prince of the one he wanted to court. He sighed and settled himself so his feet rested on the rail beside Fili's and drew his pipe from his pocket, managing to get it to light with his first try. He was happy that he could provide that support for the royal dwarf he had come to see as a friend, he just wished that he would one day find someone who could be to him what Fili's chosen obviously was to the prince. He drew the smoke deep within his lungs and held it there as he tried to imagine what his One could be like. He exhaled as he drew a blank and unthinkingly passed the pipe to the blonde dwarf at his side, warm fingers brushed his as Fili took it and Bofur smiled as he heard the slight noise of pleasure his friend made at his first draw of pipe weed of the day. The sun was warm and a gentle, pleasant breeze had started up blowing the scent of the rich loam of the herb garden and its various plants across the veranda to mingle in with the scent of the Shire leaf they were smoking.

Fili grunted beside him and Bofur tilted his head as a thud came from the table between them, he raised an eyebrow even as he took another draw from the pipe. He repressed a snigger as he rapidly exhaled so he wouldn't choke, Fili had obviously found several of his daggers and axes stuck in uncomfortably as they sat this way and was removing them, chucking the offending weapons onto the table in haste. The sigh of relief that spilt from the blonde dwarf's lips as he settled back had a smile tugging at Bofur's lips and he passed the pipe back to Fili so he could turn away to hide it. When Fili went to hand him it back he gestured for the prince to finish the bowl and tilted his head to soak up the sun's heat. He smiled softly as he realised he felt at peace for the first time in a long time, with Fili beside him he felt safe. His hat fell off his head as he tilted it further back and other than pouting slightly he made no move to fetch it, far too comfortable to be bothered about it. He vaguely felt a gentle brush against his braids, but put it down to the breeze tugging at loose strands, Fili shifted beside him and Bofur heard the gentle click of his pipe being set down followed by the soft humming as Fili started to clean the multitude of weapons he had discarded on the table. He didn't notice when the humming faded and he fell into a light doze.

Fili had relished the time he had spent with Bofur so far and without thinking had reached out a hand to run his fingers over the normally covered hair, catching himself before he could do something stupid, he curled his fingers back and held his breath as in his free hand the pipe spluttered and went out. Sighing in relief when Bofur made no indication he had felt anything Fili carefully placed the pipe down on the table, pausing for a second to admire the way the carved bowl seemed to glow red in the sun before deciding he might as well make some use of the enjoyable time and check over his weapons. Half way through check a pair of curved daggers Fili started to hum the tune of a song he'd heard Bofur playing on his flute at Bag End, the music seemed to make his work go faster and when he was startled from his daze by a soft snore from the dwarf beside him he realised he'd finished nearly every blade in his collection. He turned his eyes to a peaceful looking Bofur unconsciously placing the blade he was holding down on the table between them. 

He allowed himself to drink in the sight of a sunlit Bofur, his eyes lingered on the sleeping dwarf's face in a way that he would never allow himself if anyone else was present or the miner had been awake. As young as Bofur was for a dwarf there was the start of soft lines around his eyes and Fili traced the almond shaped eyes with his own wondered if they were caused by the fact Bofur was almost always smiling and laughing or from hardships he had suffered since Erebor fell. Fili bit his lip, the miner was too young to have suffered under his great-grandfather's rule, but there was no guarantee he hadn't started his mining training before the kingdom fell being several years older than himself. Fili trailed his eyes over the almost button like nose, a strange shape for a dwarf but he knew if anyone made that observation in his presence he would be hard pushed not to let them know that he actually found it cute. He chuckled a little as he realised Bofur, while supporting a fine moustache actually had very little facial hair, although Fili would be willing to bet it was by choice, whatever the reason it suited the miner and Fili found it endearing.

He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, settling back in his own seat as he did. He had no idea how to broach his feelings with the miner, and no idea if they would even be returned. He had hoped by expressing his interest in toy making to Bofur that it would make his interest obvious but while the miner had clearly bought into his line about wanting to impress somebody, he just didn't seem to realise it was him. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes as sunlight fell across his face. While he mightn't know how to broach the subject he knew it felt right to be sitting by Bofur's side and he was wasting valuable time by choosing then to worry. The warmth of the sun and Bofur's steady breathing soothed him and Fili found himself losing the battle to stay awake.

%

Ori had finally gotten bored of Kili and himself stuttering at each other just as Nori and Bifur strolled into the kitchen. He had grabbed the brunette prince's hand and dragged him from the guest wing and into the gardens, tucking the parchment back into his knits as he did. He didn't let go of Kili's hand as he dragged them deeper into the gardens, oblivious to the raised eyebrows of several elves they passed and the deep blush staining the younger dwarf's cheeks. His mind was racing, he was finally going to get to share his most treasured possession with someone and that that someone was Kili made his day all the brighter, all he had to do now was find a place that neither of his brothers would come and pester him until they were done. He released Kili's hand as he found the wrought iron gate he was searching for and pushed it open, he turned with excited eyes to Kili and stopped short at the blush the other dwarf was supporting. 

"Kili are you okay?"

Kili snapped out of his Ori induced daze and swallowed in an attempt to stop his voice cracking, "I'm fine Ori," he offered a soft smile at the flustered looking historian. "Honestly I am fine just really want to hear what's on that parchment. Now let's see where you have led me," he gently moved Ori to one side and stepped through the gate before stopping short when he was only a couple of steps in. "Ori," he breathed in wonder as he took in the sight before him.

Ori peered over the taller dwarf's shoulder and realised just why Kili had stopped. The garden room he had led them too was probably unique in the whole of middle earth. The stone walls of a natural valley rose to either side of a wide natural stone courtyard. The sun peeked through the branches of the trees growing along the valley's sides and caught on the crystals hanging from delicate chains causing rainbows to spring up throughout the garden. At the other end of the room a wrought iron fence reaching to the top of the valley was enrobed with delicately scented jasmine, its tiny white-green flowers glowing in the shade. At the centre of the valley room was a square cut pond fed by a small stream and filled with coy carp of various colours. He rested his chin on Kili's slumped shoulders as he forced the dwarf to walk forwards by the simplicity of walking behind him. Once inside the garden room Ori turned and shut the gate before grabbing Kili's hand once more and dragging him to a stone bench by the pond. He pushed the prince into sitting before slumping beside him and staring at the fish until Kili got over the pure beauty of the garden room.

Several long minutes later Kili finally shook himself and turned to Ori with a dazed expression. 

"Ori," he breathed again, before clearing his throat, "This is…I never imagined gardens could look like this." He grabbed Ori's hands with his own, "Could you imagine something like this under one of the skylight in the caves in Ered Luin?" he didn't realise his own face had lit up with excitement and carried on not realising Ori had been stunned breathless, "The feathery plants already grow around the walls and some of them have small streams running through them, all we would need to do would be make the pond and hang some of the gems from the walls, we could make our own rainbow room Ori!" He was almost vibrating with excitement and leant in dropping his voice confidentially, "Imagine if we could do it without anyone else knowing Ori, we could make a haven just for us." He smiled widely as he swept his gaze around the rainbow strewn garden, "This place is fantastic Ori, it is beautiful." 

As his gaze landed on Ori's slightly flushed cheeks and wide eyes, he became aware of how close they were sitting and the rise and fall of Ori's chest. Kili swallowed as beautiful brown eyes held his and a heavy silence settled over them.

Ori found himself drawn into Kili's excitement, despite barely hearing a word the younger dwarf had spoken. He was struggling to draw a breath as a brilliant smile swept across the prince's face and he found himself leaning forward as the crystals reflected in the depths of Kili's brown-black eyes. He could feel himself flushing as those eyes fixed on him and time seemed to slow around him, he drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he realised he was seconds away from kissing Kili and that would be frowned upon, not just because it would be flouting all dwarven courting customs, but because he was merely the son of a merchant and Kili was, well Kili was a prince. The thought shocked him out of his daze and he drew back slightly, raising a hand to place it on Kili's stubbled check.

"I think that sounds wonderful," he said more to his thoughts than Kili's idea, but it seemed to be the right thing to say as Kili smiled blindingly at him.

"I'm glad you think so Ori, anyone else would laugh at me and possibly pat me on the head like I was a small child who was to be humoured." He shifted so he was straddling the bench and facing Ori completely, "Now I believe you brought me to this overly romantic, secluded spot to read me history."

Ori swallowed, "Only if you want to hear it Kili I won't force you to listen even if you pretend to be interested."

Kili grabbed Ori's face as the slender dwarf went to turn away, "You aren't forcing me into anything Ori. I like spending time with you, when you talk you manage to make even the most boring portions of our history sound interesting, your whole face lights up and you can hear the passion in your voice." He butted their heads together briefly and smiled "I don't have to pretend to be interested with you Ori because you could be talking me through the basics of the written language and I would still be interested because you have some form of magic that makes it interesting." He knew he was getting excited again but couldn't help himself. "Please Ori," he turned on the puppy dog eyes, "Read some of it to me."

Ori relaxed and smiled softly as he drew the parchments from his knits. "Okay Kili I'll read to you."

%

Nori had spent the morning arguing with Bifur over the use of his knives in a sword fight or in Bifur's case just how useful they would be against someone with a boar spear. They'd demolished most of the food Bilbo had left between the two of them and several cups of coffee later they had meandered down to a fenced sanded area that looked remarkably like a training ring. Bifur had stunned Nori senseless by shrugging out of his heavy leather jerkin and spinning two thin blades in his hands. Returning to his senses Nori had grinned widely and tossing his own lightweight coat to one side pulled two of his own daggers free. As he ducked under one of Bifur's more wild swings Nori couldn't help but grin and let out a laugh of delight.

Bifur's face echoed his own joy at the thrill of the fight and the adrenaline flooding through their bodies. The sun climbed high as they were fighting and bar a break in which they had both shrugged out of the rest of their heavy clothing the two had not paused. Neither giving an inch and both thoroughly enjoying time spent in the company of one who-while at first glance appeared so different- was far too similar. Nori gasped as he attempted a feint only for Bifur to block it with a grin and found himself on his back weapon-less and staring up at Bifur's slightly panting form along the blade of a dagger. He allowed his gaze to wander for a second his eyes skimming over the obvious and picking out the more subtle tales of past written on the toymaker's skin with practiced ease. He swallowed hard as his gaze ran over hardened muscles in the badger-like dwarf's arms and the rippling muscles of his stomach. He pushed back using Bifur's shins as a launch and by the time the other dwarf had steadied himself was on his feet another pair of daggers in his hands.

Bifur laughed delightedly at the move Nori had just pulled on him, he would be the first to admit he was easily distracted in a fight and this time it had been by the gem glinting red in the sunlight nestled in Nori's belly button. His laugh wasn't because he had been distracted, or because he'd found the distraction so enjoyable, no he was laughing because it was a long time since anyone had taken him seriously in a fight. The move Nori had just pulled showed him the younger dwarf didn't take the axe in his head as a weakness. 

Bifur grinned widely and feinted to one side using his momentum to drive him passed Nori and moving behind the auburn-haired dwarf's back. He admired a red and black tattoo on the dwarf's shoulder taking in the mass of scaring on Nori's body as he moved around him. His smile dropped and he growled deeply in his throat for a second before a startled Nori swung at him and forced him to concentrate back on the fight. He managed to block the swing and kick Nori's legs out from beneath the other dwarf but still found himself with Nori straddling his waist and his hands pinned over his head. His eyes widened and he eyed Nori with an appreciative eye, he'd need to get the younger male to teach him that move because he hadn't seen it coming at all.

*A move from when I was in the guard Bifur,* grunted Nori, as Bifur twisted under him and almost managed to throw him free. *Dammit you should not be that strong, most dwarves can't move in this hold.*

Bifur laughed, *Ah but there's plenty of dwarves wouldn't try Nori, a hold like this tells them they are messing with someone who knows how to fight…I wonder.*

He didn't elaborate merely twisted in Nori's grip, causing the younger dwarf to gasp and release his hold for a split second. It was the only opening Bifur needed and he soon had Nori face down both hands twisted behind his slender back, one of his knees to the side of the other dwarf's hip the other pressing down on the back of his thigh.

*Bet they didn't teach you that at guard training* he snickered.

Nori groaned into the sand, *Blast Bifur no they didn't and if I'd known you knew that trick I wouldn't have used the guard hold on you either.* He wriggled a bit, but it was clear he wasn't going anywhere, *How on earth do you know that hold Bifur?* he ground out feeling less uncomfortable than normal in this position.

Bifur sighed, *Truce?* he waited for Nori to verbally reply before he backed off and let Nori up. 

* I'm not as green as the princes are young Nori, nor am I as innocent and naïve as people see me. I have lived a hard life, this…* he gestured to the axe in his head…*this merely made me more unstable than I was wont to be. I learnt that hold in a bad time in my life. I had left everyone I loved behind me after that blasted worm destroyed my business and the orcs took part of my character. I ran like a coward Nori and I am not proud of that fact, but I did it. Certain sects of dwarven society took the axe in my forehead as a sign I was simple and tried to take advantage of me. They learnt soon enough that I wasn't to be messed with. Not soon enough though. I have killed my own kind Nori.* He looked away from the younger dwarf unwilling to let him see his shame, so he was startled when Nori settled next to him and took one of his hands in his own smaller ones. Their sweat and sand covered shoulders brushed as Nori leant his weight against him. Bifur swallowed and realised out all of the company he was probably talking to the only dwarf who might understand.

*The axe clouds my judgement sometimes and despite memories being cloudy I know there were times when I could have let them walk away but the anger surged like red mist and I lost control. It took me several years for me to learn how to control the anger that consumed me. I cannot forgive myself and I know that I will be judged before Mahal. I didn't enter that world out of a way to protect my family, or a means to survive I entered because I was scared, because I wanted to lash out at the world.* He allowed his shoulders to sag as Nori let go of his hands and moved away from him. Bifur closed his eyes and forced the tears down, a gentle hand brushed a strand of hair away from the axe in his forehead and a gentle kiss was dropped beside it.

*Bifur* Nori's voice was gentle and Bifur snapped his eyes open to see Nori kneeling in front of him a heart broken expression on his face, *I cannot judge Bifur I too joined for selfish reasons.* Bifur reached forward and took Nori's downturned face between his scarred hands. Nori raised his eyes and offered him a watery smile, holding Bifur's hands against his face for a second before gesturing down at his chest, * I keep hoping Mahal has taken his vengeance for the deeds I have done, but then I see what he put Ori through and I know he put my baby brother through hell because of my sins.* 

He looked at Bifur his voice breaking as tears began to flow, *Dammit Bifur why did he have to make Ori suffer? He's already taken away my chance of ever finding happiness with another being, who will ever want someone as damaged as me? Why did he have to hurt Ori?*

Bifur caught Nori as the younger dwarf began to sob and brought him against his chest, cradling him softly he began to hum a partial forgotten lullaby his mother had once sang to him. He wanted to tell Nori that the scars didn't detract from his beauty, that any dwarf would be lucky to have him in their life. His loyalty, his honesty and his heart shone through his beautiful green eyes. His true smile could lift the darkness from even the most desolate hour and his laugh brought hope to the hopeless. He wanted to say these things and so much more but the words stuck in his throat as Nori fell apart in his arms, as the younger dwarf cried for his lost innocence and the terrors he hadn't been able to save his brother from. Bifur closed his eyes in pain and merely held Nori closer, soothing shaking fingers over the elaborately quaffed hair and forcing himself to keep humming.

%

Bilbo froze beside Dwalin in the shadows they had been watching Nori and Bifur fight from. His heart was breaking as he heard their confessions and his hands had slowly curled into fists. Unable to hide that he understood every word, despite it not being in Westron, he turned to Dwalin, the tears running freely down his face. He didn't protest as the dwarf scooped him up and marched solemnly away from the training ring. He would leave the two in peace and to their privacy. He curled into Dwalin's side as they sank onto a settee in the guest common room, and let himself sob, as for once it was empty. He could feel Dwalin shaking in silent tears beside him and pulled the dwarf to lie beside him on the soft cushions. Lying in Dwalin's arms and feeling the warrior cry for his kin only hardened Bilbo's resolve further. Not a single one of them had deserved what had happened to them and he would be damned if he failed in getting them their home back. He would die before he would voluntarily let harm come to them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Let me know what you think please.
> 
> *De KhuzdTunng = the ancient dwarf language* (used for ritual and religion.


	40. Chapter 41 - Hope and Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning there will be more references to the dwarves’ pasts in this chapter, if you haven’t read Punishment please don’t kill me for this.

_Chapter Forty One – Hope and Healing. ___

 

When Bilbo awoke his eyes felt gritty and his head was stuffed up. It took him several moments to recall why he should feel that way, and when he did he let out a muffled curse. A heavy warm arm was pinning him to a settee and he tilted his head so he could figure out who was lying next to him. His bad mood evaporated when he saw it was Dwalin who was using him as a cushion and a gentle smile flitted across his face as he raised his free hand to card it through the un-braided sections of the dwarf’s hair. He lay enjoying the peacefulness for several long moments until the strange quality of the light in the room caught his attention. He realised as he glanced around the communal area that while it might not yet be night the shadows were long and the breeze rapidly cooling. He pouted as it occurred to him that he’d spent what had promised to be a warm afternoon sleeping, before chuckling when he realised that he would get to cook for the company again. His chuckle awoke Dwalin, who grumbled softly into his shoulder. 

“It’s okay Dwalin, I’m just going to start the evening meal,” Bilbo wriggled free drawing a whine from the warrior, “You don’t have to get up yet, in fact you’d be better off going to sleep again.” He draped one of the freshly mended blankets that were lying around over Dwalin and pressed a soft kiss to the larger male’s forehead, chuckling softly at the soft snore he got in response. 

Bilbo stretched before he ambled over to the kitchen area and started to rake through the cupboards to find something to eat. He was non-pulsed with what he found and growled at the seemingly random collection of food items the elves had seen fit to refill the cupboards with this time. Huffing Bilbo leant back against one of the benches as he stared at the pile on the table top, as he ran his hands through his curls he wondered if their hosts were trying to make a point, because in the Shire what they had left them would have been considered the height of bad manners. He shook his head as he realised what he had just thought, in the Shire the hosts would not be leaving their guests (uninvited and unexpected or not) to fend for themselves. He narrowed his eyes, well if the elves thought he wouldn’t be able to make a decent meal out of what he’d found they would be sorely mistaken. A spark of mischief came into his eyes and he set to with new found enthusiasm. 

He was nearly finished when noise from the communal area told him that most of the company were back. He stuck his head out the door and smiled as he counted heads, apparently everyone was back. His smile fell when he saw the pale face of Nori and the tired eyes of Bifur, he was suddenly glad he’d made his grandmother’s broth and cheesy-potato scones, those two needed comfort food.

Wondering how to get everyone’s attention he stood leaning against the door frame for several long moments watching everyone interact. Boundaries and walls had definitely fallen on the journey and had anyone told him that cautious, fearful bunch of dwarves that had landed in Bag End could be this boisterous he would have either laughed them out of the Shire or shook his head sadly. His eyes landed on Bofur who was whistling softly to himself and found a way to get everyone’s attention, so instead of dwelling on dark thoughts Bilbo raised his hand to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Thirteen heads turned in his direction, and he sighed softly as he noticed the tension carefully hidden away when they realised it was him. History obviously still had them all in her talons and was in no hurry to let them go. 

Shaking his morbid thoughts free he smiled at them, “If you want food, I’ve cooked.” He laughed as the excited clamour and felt the need to warn them, “It is nothing special, just soup and scones.”

“Yeah but it’s your soup and scones!” quipped Kili as twelve of the dwarves rushed into the kitchen. The brunette dwarf’s words brought a round of laughter and allowed Bilbo to slip over to the only company member who hadn’t made a rush for the food. 

%

“Fili?” Bilbo kept his voice soft so as not to startle the blonde or alert the rest of the company. Blue eyes turned to him and he winced at the half-hearted smile he received. He pulled the young dwarf to his feet, “Come on,” he muttered, leading an un-protesting Fili away from the company quarters and snagging a blanket on their way out, “You need someone to talk to lad.”

He kept his silence as Fili allowed himself to be towed along without a fuss. When they reached a torch lit courtyard with stone benches around its edges Bilbo came to a stop and manouvered Fili to sit on one. He carefully wrapped the blanket around the blonde dwarf’s shoulders before he sat down next to him.

“What’s wrong Fili?” When the dwarf beside him merely shook his head, Bilbo repressed a sigh and wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders. “Look I know you still can’t trust me completely yet,” he ignored the start he got in response, “I honestly don’t know if you ever will, but I do care about you. I care that you are upset and hurting and if you’ll let me I will try my best to help in any way I can,” he paused, “Even if it is just being there to listen when you want to talk.” 

Fili snuggled deeply into Bilbo’s side. The hobbit’s words had at first shocked and then angered him, before he had had to fight the urge to cry. There was honesty laced into every word spoken and he wanted to spill his heart to the curly haired man sitting next to him, but he didn’t know where to start or how to put most of what he was feeling into words. 

“I actually slept today,” he breathed, wondering if Bilbo could hear him with how quiet that had been, the fact that the hobbit might not be able to hear what he was saying gave him courage. “I know that doesn’t sound like much but there is a reason I keep watch at night in the hours just before dawn. There is a reason I don’t take naps when others choose to. Yet when I was sitting beside Bofur today I managed to sleep for almost six hours straight without the terrors. I didn’t wake up screaming, or crying or in a cold sweat. I woke up with a smile on my face and more rested than I have been since we were at your home.” Beside him Bilbo twitched slightly, but Fili was comfortable and didn’t want to look up. Instead he wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s waist and snuggled further into the hobbit’s warmth.

“You are wrong to say I don’t trust you, you know. I would never think of you as Uncle Bilbo if I didn’t trust you. The instinct to draw back is a kind of ingrained response to a situation I don’t fully understand, but it has nothing to do with you.” He paused and took a shaking breath, wondering why he was still talking and yet not wanting to stop. “I nearly begged you to let me stay behind at Bag End when everyone left, it was so nice not having the terrors, but then I realised it was only because I felt you could, and would, protect me in your home that they receeded. I don’t know what to do about them Uncle Bilbo, I don’t want to keep dreaming memories and what ifs. How do I make them stop?”

Fili hadn’t realised he’d been gripping Bilbo’s shirt with all his strength, until warm fingers untangled his own from the fabric and enclosed them in a firm but soothing grip.

“Unfortunately there is no guaranteed way to make night terrors disappear,” Bilbo’s voice sounded sad and Fili wondered what experience the hobbit had had with said terrors. Before he could ask Bilbo was talking again, “I wish I could offer you worn platitudes about time making everything better, that you just need to be strong and you will defeat them. Unfortunately I will never lie to you and life is not that simple. I still suffer from my own occasionally, I haven’t figured out what triggers them or why they suddenly descend to haunt my dreams but they do and I can’t stop them.”

Fili wrapped his other arm around Bilbo’s waist and squeezed, “Watch your strength Fili I’m not a dwarf,” there was no reproach in the hobbit’s voice so Fili didn’t loosen his arms and Bilbo continued, “However now I think on it I haven’t had a recurrence since I met you all.”

Fili knew he probably shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t help his curiosity, “What are your terrors of?” he whispered. 

Bilbo closed his eyes for a second as Fili’s question sunk in, he’d hoped to not have to share anymore of his history with the dwarves but yet Fili was putting his trust in him and he couldn’t disappoint the young blonde. He just hoped he didn’t give him more terrors. 

“Me?” he asked rhetorically, “They differ. I have the day I lost my mother. The night I lost my father. The day I got the scars on my back.” He swallowed, “And the massacre of the Fell Winter and others.” He rubbed soothing circles on Fili’s shoulder when he felt the young dwarf tense up, “Don’t dwell on it Fili,” he crooned, “Do you want to tell me what haunts your dreams?

He could feel the tremours running through Fili’s frame and wondered if the dwarf would pull away from him. Instead the blonde curled his fingers into his shirt again and buried his face into his shoulder. His voice was muffled and slightly shaking when he spoke, but Bilbo’s hobbit ears picked up the words easily. “I dream of the night father didn’t return, how familiar faces were turned into monsters with grief, blood and icky stuff. I remember when that frul went after Ki. I dream that Gloin didn’t reach us in time and I was too weak too small to stop it happening.” 

Bilbo tightened his arm around the dwarf’s shoulders, feeling the warm tears starting to soak through his shirt as Fili went on, “I dream of when Amad became ill because she had given up one to many meals so we could eat. I dream of watching Arik being torn to shreds by hunting dogs because he turned back to protect little Gilst when she had fallen when we had to flee from one of the human towns. I wake up feeling his blood splatter my face as I stood in front of Kili and Gilst, I dream of the agony in his eyes because he wouldn’t let himself scream even as he died in case it upset his niece. Or I wake up in a cold sweat when I have dreamt of looking into the hound’s eyes as it turned to me next. I…I…” His voice trailed off into sobs and Bilbo pulled him closer, turning so he was able to wrap his other arm around the now shaking dwarf. 

He wanted desperately to say something, but knew words were useless and so made soothing noises as he let the young dwarf sob his pain out. His hands rubbed soothing circles onto Fili’s back as his mind drifted, fighting the urge to find Thorin, Balin and Dwalin to scream at them. He knew it wasn’t their fault, but that boys such as Fili and Kili had gone through something no child should broke his heart. Thorin, Dwalin, Nori and Balin had chosen to go to war. Fili and Kili had no choice in what they had had to face, he tightened his grip even as he fought back tears, but then none of them had had a choice about the dragon or man kinds’ inability for kindness.

Unconciously he started to run his fingers through Fili’s hair in the same soothing gesture he’d used at Bag End. It seemed to work as the sobs became less, it wasn’t until he heard the snuffley snores that he realised Fili had actually exhausted himself and had cried himself to sleep against him. Bilbo marvelled at the similarities between family members, but didn’t stop the soothing motions he had been doing. Kili would come looking for his older brother soon enough, and he wouldn’t wake Fili especially since the dwarf had just admitted that he hadn’t been sleeping. 

The moon was bright in the dark sky when the peace of the courtyard was finally disturbed. “Master Baggins?” Bilbo snapped his head towards the voice, tensing before he realised it was merely Bofur. 

“Master Bofur?” he asked just to be sure, even as he attempted to shake loose his own bad memories. 

“Aye,” agreed the dwarf, Bilbo narrowed his eyes as the miner stepped out of the shadows looking shifty, “I came to find Mister Fili as his brother said he’d missed food.”  


Bilbo raised an eyebrow and Bofur scuffed his feet, “Is he okay?” he finally asked, putting his nervousness to one side. 

Bilbo ran his fingers through Fili’s gold hair and sighed, “No Bofur he isn’t but it isn’t my place to tell, if he wants you to know he will tell you.”

Bofur put his hands out in the universal sign of peace, “No, no, no Master Baggins you misunderstand me. I don’t want you to tell me anything, I was just hoping you’d had a gossip and he’d dozed off. He doesn’t deserve to be upset, he has such a big heart.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes again, “Oh!” he stated calmly, “How do you actually see Fili?” 

Bofur raised an eyebrow, “Huh?” 

“Oh for the love of…” Bilbo trailed off as Fili stirred before snuggling back down and snoring lightly again, “Do you see him as a child? A friend? Someone you could fall in love with? A warrior? A crafter? A diplomat? A prankster? Do I need to go on?” he hissed.

Bofur’s confused look relaxed, “I see him as friend, a very good friend. I see him as a great dwarf, he is someone I could happily call king if I had to. He has a kindness in him, a lightness that many dwarves are missing now. He is a quick learner and good with his hands." Bofur sighed and Bilbo smiled to himself as he realised the miner was staring at a sleeping Fili, “He didn’t deserve what he’s been through, mind you I still think poor Ori had it worst out of the lot of us poor laddie.” 

Bilbo closed his eyes and counted to ten before he came to a decision. “Mister Bofur would you stay with Fili? I don’t want to wake the lad up.”

Bofur nodded, “Of course Master Baggins.” Bilbo smiled wanly at him and untangled himself from Fili’s grip, indicating Bofur to slide onto the bench when he was free. Fili stirred but latched onto Bofur and soon settled. Patting the bemused miner’s shoulder Bilbo slipped away into the darkness.

%

It took him two bells but he finally tracked down Dori to a quiet alcove in the library and he took a moment to reflect that the three Ri brothers had more in common than they thought, and then another to growl mentally at the injustice of it all. “Master Dori?” he asked, careful not to startle the older dwarf. 

Dori jumped slightly anyway, “Ah Master Baggins, must you sneak so?”

“Sorry Master Dori, I don’t mean to sneak it is an unavoidable trait of my race, and an occupational hazard.” He gestured to the free chair beside the grey haired dwarf, “Can I join you?”

“Of course Master Baggins,” Bilbo winced at Dori’s cheerful acceptance, “I am always happy to have your company.”

“You might not be when you find out what I am here for Master Dori.” Bilbo decided on honesty as he sat down, rubbing his face tiredly as Dori’s face took on a suspicious expression at his words. “There is no delicate way to put this so forgive me for my bluntness.” He took a deep breath and fixed Dori with an unblinking look, “What has Ori gone through that made him so scared to eat the food I had spent all day preparing even after I had asked him to eat?”

Dori flinched and Bilbo knew then that it had been bad. “I…What do you mean Master Baggins?” Dori’s eyes were hard and his voice cold.

“Really Master Dori, I have given my word to protect Ori, how can I do that if you make me ask him what has happened?” Bilbo knew it was an underhand tactic but at this point he would resort to any measure to make sure he didn’t have to dredge up the memories for Ori.

“I…I am sorry Master Baggins, trust is hard earned by my family now, but I really should at least start to trust you.” The grey haired dwarf passed a hand over his face, “It wasn’t pretty in the slightest and I tend to get very defensive when I think about it. I failed him massively and it always surprises me that he has ever forgiven me.”

Bilbo nodded and placed a reassuring hand over Dori’s where it was lying on the table top. The dwarf took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on Bilbo’s. “When Erebor fell myself and Ori wandered for a couple of years not knowing if Nori was still alive. He was a bright young thing and learnt quickly to avoid questions that would upset me. It wasn’t until we had settled on a human estate, barely scraping by that Nori found us, it was only thanks to his light fingered ways that we ever had enough to not be thrown out on our ears. The minuscule provisions we were supposed to survive on – between the two of us mind you- were barely enough to feed a small human. Nori made sure that the small wage I earned went on food rather than rent. Ori was a fast learner and managed to stay away from the humans most of the time, yet still managed to get his share of the work done. The work was hard and he shouldn’t have been doing such for at least two decades more, but we took what we could. I looked after the young dwarves that weren’t clever enough to learn that our employers (and believe me I use that word loosely) were cruel and devious. I tried to keep it from Ori but he probably knew, he always knows and I always try to protect him.” 

Dori groaned, “I had to leave on business to another human estate and leave Ori by himself. I hadn’t realised that my actions with the young ones had been noted, but the humans weren’t stupid enough to take on a full grown dwarf, even one as weakened as myself. I personally think the only reason they didn’t come after me was because my strength had been noted, they did something worse in the eyes of any dwarf. They went after my young.” Bilbo’s eyes hardened as did Dori’s voice. “They dared go after my Ori as punishment for my taking care of children of my race. I was away several days when Ori was called up to the big house for work. He was already exhausted having taken on my share of the work as well as his own. He had also taken it on himself to look after the children I had been taking care of. Lack of food and sleep probably paid a part in the fact he ate the food laid out in the kitchen and was caught. They came after him four on one. Four fully grown humans, well fed and well rested against one under aged, partial starved and exhausted dwarf. He gave as good as he got when they first went after him, even after spraining his ankle when he’d jumped up in shock, but in reality he didn’t stand a chance. They forced a charcoal mixture down his throat, as if his stomach wasn’t raw already.” 

Dori stopped taking a deep breath, hazel eyes as hard as slate, “They obviously decided that since I wasn’t there to step in they would go all out, because once he’d stopped retching they dragged him out into the centre of the square and stripped him of his shirt and boots. Now a lash shouldn’t have any effect on a healthy fully grown dwarf other than stinging slightly, but to the state Ori was in at the time it managed to bruise and cut the flesh. He didn’t cry out once and when they were bored they dragged him to the jail, which was a windowless room in the cellars of the manor house. I hope they didn’t know about a dwarf’s ability to tell the passage of time without light or fresh air.” 

His shoulders sagged and Bilbo watched guiltily as Dori closed his eyes. “I was gone for nearly two weeks. He’d been caught eating four days into my first week away. They hadn’t fed him after his second day in the jail, hadn’t refilled his water jug after the second day of the second week. The jail was beyond freezing and they had only provided him with a thin piece of material I won’t design to call a blanket.”

Bilbo felt his eyes sting as Dori’s voice wavered and the dwarf’s tear filled hazel eyes met his. “Nori made sure they paid badly for what they did to my baby brother. He was barely able to open his eyes when I found him Bilbo,” gasped Dori, “The only reason I knew he was alive was the barely there rise and fall of his chest. The wounds on his back were infected and he had gotten pneumonia, we couldn’t treat him there and I had to carry him a full day and night, following behind the company of dwarves that Nori had refused to leave behind, stating that they were also only children and he wouldn’t leave them to the human’s wrath. Bilbo how can Ori have ever forgiven me this?”

Bilbo once again found himself trying to sooth an almost hysterical Dori. His jaw was clenched and he was finding it hard not to start raging. When Dori finally pulled back the sky was a light silver along the eastern horizon and something in Bilbo’s expression must have caught the dwarf’s attention. “Master Baggins?”

Bilbo snapped his eyes to Dori’s face, “Please it is just Bilbo. I see Ori as a younger brother so it is Bilbo.” He paused, “What was the name of the human estate that this happened upon?” he almost growled. 

Dori looked taken aback for several moments, “East Bight.” He blurted, “Land was owned by the family of Hildor.” 

Bilbo’s smile was anything but nice, “We will pass near it on our journey yes?” 

Dori’s face contorted into a mixture of pain and longing. Taking that as a yes Bilbo stood, “Hobbits may not be warriors, but I promised I would protect Ori in whatever way I could.” He stood and looked a suddenly much calmer Dori in the eye. “If you can distract the rest of the company long enough you can be assured they will pay.” He nodded and left the library and Dori behind him. 

Dori sat staring after him for several long moments. The room was starting to be painted in a warm glow when Nori found him, “Brother, what has happened?”

Dori looked at him, “They will pay!”

“Who? Dori what is…” Nori’s face suddenly became dark, “You told Bilbo.” He breathed as he collapsed bonelessly into the empty chair. Dori merely raised an eyebrow. “His mother was Belladonna.” Stated Nori wordlessly, “There is a reason the guild never touched the Shire. Ever!” 

“Oh!”

“Yes,” agreed Nori, “And you’ve just sent her son after the bastards that hurt our Ori.”

Green eyes met hazel and dark laughter filled the library. Lindïr shivered as the sound reached him as he was passing on his way to meet with Elrond, there was no joy in that laughter just the promise of pain and revenge. 

%

Bilbo stumbled back into the wing the company had been given for their stay, eyes flitting to the sleeping dwarves. Apparently they had decided to spend the night in a similar way to their second in Rivendell and had stayed grouped in the common area.

Fili was curled up between his brother and Bofur. Ori was at Kili’s other side, one arm slung casually over the brunette’s waist, the other cradling the back of his head as Kili cuddled into his chest. 

Thorin was sprawled out across two cushions, an open book of elvish tales propped open on his chest.

Balin was curled into a little ball between Gloin and Oin, an assortment of parchment, weapons and herbs scattered around them. 

Bombur was asleep beside Bofur, one arm thrown over his eyes. 

Bifur was curled up apart from the rest, Nori’s cloak draped over his huddled form.

A hand on Bilbo’s shoulder made him jump, spinning as he did so. “Dwalin,” he breathed in relief.

“Aye,” agreed the dwarf, “Now where did you get to?”

“I had a talk with Fili and then one with Master Dori.” Muttered Bilbo, allowing himself to be dragged over to one of the settees. He curled into Dwalin’s lap and tucked his head under the dwarf’s chin, “Would you teach me to fight?”

“I already said I would Bilbo,” breathed Dwalin, “So why are you asking again?”

“No would you start teaching me today?” 

Dwalin paused wondering at the angry-despondent tone Bilbo was using, “You know you won’t be anywhere near trained by the time we leave Rivendell right?”

“I know that,” sniffed the hobbit curled into his chest, “I just have this gut feeling that we are losing time in which to teach me even the basics.”

Dwalin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist and spun them both so he was lying on the settee with Bilbo resting on his chest. He wished he knew words that would help but he knew that the hobbit was learning about their pasts. 

“I will start to teach you today if you want Bilbo, if you sleep now.”

“Keep the dreams away Dwalin?”

Dwalin felt his heart clench wondering if it was learning of the dwarves’ pasts that were giving him dark dreams or his own past, he hadn’t forgotten Bilbo mentioning he’d lost both parents or the fact he had faced an orc slasher. He ran a hand into Bilbo’s curls, “I promise.” He cleared his throat, “Sleep now. I will keep watch.”

Bilbo merely muttered sleepily and Dwalin felt a lone tear slid down his cheek and he closed his eyes. Apparently the two of them needed to talk again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frul - Animal


	41. Chapter 42 - Control the Storm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dwalin and Bilbo spar.

_Chapter Forty Two – Control the Storm. ___

Ori awoke late in the morning, groaning as the pins and needles in his hands made themselves known. Swearing softly he shifted Kili’s weight slightly so he could shake the offending appendages in an attempt to speed up the return of blood to his fingers. He glanced around the communal area and was surprised to find that his brothers were both missing, and that he was the only one awake despite the obvious lateness of the hour. His sharp eyes missed nothing, from the book of elvish tales clutched protectively to Thorin’s chest to the fact Bifur was draped in Nori’s cloak. He frowned at the tear tracks on Fili’s cheeks, but realising he hadn’t heard a peep from the blonde dwarf all night lightened his brow slightly. If sleeping in the miner’s arms brought his friend comfort then Ori wouldn’t be commenting on it. He wrinkled his nose as his eyes fell on Thorin’s form again, although he may have to wake them up before the crown-prince awoke. 

Nodding decisively he carefully pushed to his feet, re-covering Kili’s slender form with the blanket when he was standing. Making sure he didn’t wake any of the others he moved around the sleeping forms of the Durin brothers and cautiously knelt beside Bofur. Looking at the miner’s peaceful face made Ori wish he didn’t have to wake him, but he wouldn’t let him face Thorin’s wrath and so he gently awake, placing a finger to his lips when startled grey eyes flew to his face. He waited until Bofur’s eyes focused on him completely and pointed first at the still sleeping form of Fili, carefully tucked against the miner’s chest and then to Thorin’s form across the hall. Waiting only until those grey eyes widened in worried understanding Ori pushed to his feet even as Bofur was arranging himself into a less compromising position. Satisfied Thorin would just think the trio had dozed off while talking late into the night Ori slipped from the communal area determined to find his brothers. 

He worked systematically. The doors to all the bathing rooms were all open so he didn’t need to check them, so he started by sticking his head into the bedrooms they had been given. He shrugged lightly when neither of his brothers were there. He hadn’t expected them to be with the way everyone else was gathered in the communal area, but it hadn’t hurt to check, besides he suspected where ever they were they were together. He peeked in the kitchen, even as his mind worked on where they could have hidden themselves. An idea came to him and Ori grinned widely, while it wasn’t a well-known fact the Ri brothers all had a trait in common. That trait was that they loved to read, to absorb whatever knowledge they could. It may be for different reasons, but it was there. 

In Nori’s case it was that in his line of work knowledge was power, knowledge could be used as a currency, or the right knowledge could save your life, or buy you immunity from the law.

In the eldest Ri brother, Dori’s, case it was to protect his family. He read so he knew the laws of the land, healing methods, cooking methods, domiciliary techniques, accountancy and very occasionally about others’ cultures. 

Ori read because he loved to. From history to geography. Politics to the sciences. From economics to poetry. Ori knew he read too much, but he just loved to learn. He didn’t horde all he knew, he was willing to share with everyone, if they were interested, but he also wouldn’t talk just for the sake of hearing his own voice. 

With these thoughts in mind Ori turned his feet towards the Rivendell library. He found it ironic that he hadn’t yet visited the hallowed halls of knowledge in this place, but Bilbo’s writings on a book written by Durin himself had held his interest much more. He sighed in relief when he entered the vaulted rooms and caught sight of his two oldest brothers sitting cloistered at one of the tables. He didn’t like to admit it but not knowing where they were in a strange place still rattled him slightly. Not that he thought he was at any risk with the rest of the company there but, it was just a knee-jerk reaction from when he was still under age. He smiled gently at the confused looking librarian and getting a nod in reply ambled across to his brothers. 

“Nori!” he grumbled sliding into a spare chair, “Dori!” he rested his elbows on the table top and his chin in his hands as he turned to face them both. The almost guilty expression on both of their faces amused him, especially as he couldn’t remember a time when Nori had ever supported that look around Dori. “What have you two been up to?” he asked with a smirk. 

“Nothing!” he laughed out loud as his brothers answered in sync.

“Really?” he murmured, “I don’t believe you.” He held up a hand, “Firstly, everyone else, even Bilbo is still asleep in the communal area,” he ignored their shared look at the hobbit’s name and pressed on. “Secondly, you are sitting together. You normally cannot spend ten minutes alone without starting at each other, cannot say it isn’t an improvement, but it also means something is up. Thirdly you left me alone, you’ve never done that at night since…” he trailed off as Dori paled. “Oh Mahal what has happened?”

“Nothing bad Ori.” Nori spoke quickly, “Bilbo clicked on that several people were under age and he came to Dori rather than ask you and…”

“You told him!” Ori was yelling, barely even realising that he’d pushed to his feet the chair clattering to the ground behind him, he ignored the librarian’s horrified gasp, “What gave you the right to tell him anything!” He stopped a horrified thought crossing his mind, “Tell me you didn’t give him details!” he hissed.

“Ori I…” Dori trailed off staring over his shoulder and Ori took a shaking breath, closing his eyes to calm himself down. 

“Ori,” the calm voice from behind him made Ori whirl around and he found himself eye to eye with a weary looking Bilbo. “I am sorry Ori. I should have asked you and you could have told me what you wanted me to know. I just…I thought it would be best that I could…I didn’t want you to have to relive the past Ori, after your reaction at Bag End I didn’t want to be the reason for you to have to relive it again.”

Ori swallowed, “I sort of understand but I live it every day Bilbo. The scars mightn’t be as visible as others carry in the company, but I still carry them.” He closed his eyes a moment, “I am glad you know in a way though as we have to pass by the estates on the way back to Erebor.” He hadn’t realised he was shaking until Bilbo’s arms were warm around his shoulders. 

“I am sorry young one,” breathed Bilbo and Ori finally broke down. He didn’t know if it was the feel of warm arms around his shoulders or the homely scent Bilbo always seemed to have but he was suddenly crying and holding onto the hobbit as if he were a life line. 

He didn’t know how long it was that he cried, but he finally sniffled “Why are you so good to all of us?”

Bilbo drew back at Ori’s words and carefully steered him into an upright chair, hands never leaving the narrow shoulders. “Why am I so good to all of you?” Really Ori?” he fought back the urge to growl and kept his voice the same tone he had used with Dwalin the first night at Bag End. “This is who I am Ori. I don’t know how to act any different. None of you have done me an ill, none of you has earned my ire. The first night at Bag End, what can you remember?”

He had the attention of the three Ri brothers now, but kept his eyes solely on Ori’s as the young dwarf spoke. “I was scared, worried. I wondered if you would help us. What you would expect in return? You were not what I was expecting. From the start you were more than polite, you were warm and inviting. I wanted to trust you, but it had happened so many times before that it has started out so well. Even when we insulted you by not eating you were calm, you joked with Dwalin and he joked with you. You didn’t lose your temper with us when you had every right too. You terrified me when you started to shake when you were holding my hand, then you left without saying anything and I thought I was in really big trouble. Yet you came back as Dwalin had promised with yet more food, and you let him carve and you tried to put me at my ease. You managed really well. You managed to get Nori to relax…he never turns his backs on strangers. Vaccras he rarely turns his back on family and friends. Then Dori started to cry on you and you went pale and stiff again and I thought we were in trouble. But you were mad at how we had been treated even though you didn’t know us and had no reason to care. Why?”

Bilbo shifted his weight to his other foot. “Why? Ori you asked me why I was so good to you all. Now think carefully. You are the smartest one in the company so think. If I treat you like that upon our first meeting just how much more protective do you think I will be now? How much more will I care for you all now that I have started to get to know you?”

He watched Ori’s eyes widen. “But...”

“I promised I would protect you and I meant it Ori.” He sighed and pushed to stand up straight, “You are far too sweet for your own good.”

He glanced at a pale faced Nori and an obviously shaken Dori, “Now I originally came here to get you all for breakfast and to beg you for some moral support?”

Nori’s head shot up, “What do you need moral support for?”

“Oh, I asked Dwalin if he would start me with weapons training today.” Bilbo smirked, “I need to let off some steam or I may end up curled up in a corner rocking away to myself. I can only deal with so much emotion you know.” He smiled sadly and patted Ori on the shoulder, “It’s been thirty-five years since I’ve had to care about anyone’s past but my own.” 

Ori pushed to his feet determinedly wiping his cheeks as he did so, “Well with all you’ve done for us I think I can offer you some moral support.”

“Get some breakfast first Ori, Kili made pancakes.” Bilbo nodded at the Ri brothers and sauntered off. 

Waiting until he could no longer hear Bilbo, Ori turned to his brothers with a raised eyebrow, “What was his reaction to what you told him Dori?” 

His other eyebrow joined the first at the look his brothers shared. “Oh he asked the name of the estate it happened at and if we passed it on our way. Then he muttered something about me needing to distract the company.” 

His mouth dropped as Nori chipped in his two cents worth, “Oh I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about I mean he is only a hobbit, even if he is descended from Belladonna Took.”

“Nori! Nori!” Ori came out of his shock to find his brothers were walking away from the library and he set off at a run after them, “He surely cannot mean that Bilbo is the son of the female who terrified the bastards that ruined his life.” He skidded to a stop, both cursing and thanking Mahal for the railings that had stopped him sliding off the end of the walk way, “But that means Bilbo is only fif…Sweet Yvanna’s blessings.” He breathed, still holding onto the balustrade, “We should be protecting him!”

%

Nori chuckled where he was watching his brother form the shadows of a statue. He pitied the lad if he ever tried to mollycoddle Bilbo, he was in for a nasty surprise. 

%

By the time Bilbo finally got around to starting his weapons training it was mid-afternoon and the sun was beating down mercilessly on the sandy arena where he had seen Nori and Bifur sparing the previous day. Even just twenty minutes in and he was sweating and mentally cursing any deity he could think of. Apparently there was more to weapons training than he had ever dreamt of suspecting. Although, he defended, between Saradoc being very unhelpful and the Thain’s stick ‘em with the pointy end, he had had very little chance of ever knowing this. He suddenly had a new appreciation of the strength that each dwarf must have to swing their chosen weapons around. His arms were shaking with the effort of keeping his single, practice blade in the correct position. It didn’t help that with Dwalin testing his frame and stance that he’d ended up on his backside eleven times already. He gasped as he staggered to the left when Dwalin link an ankle around his and pulled, proud he hadn’t ended up on the ground again he straightened his shoulders and swung back to the centre. Only to cringe when Dwalin started to nod. Nodding meant they were going to progress to moving. Movement was bad. 

Bilbo raised his head and froze as he caught sight of the figures of Nori, Ori, Bofur, Fili and Kili to the side of the arena. Suddenly his small bruises and aching arm didn’t seem so bad, he narrowed his eyes and nodded back at Dwalin. Despite his re-found resolve he couldn’t help but be grateful that he was being started on drills. Repetitive movement he could handle, although he’d need a hot bath by the end of the day. 

%

Thorin stood in the shadows of the raised seating around the arena as he watched his oldest friend teach the hobbit the basics of weapon handling. The smaller male seemed to be a fast learned and he could admit to himself also really stubborn. He’s heard Dwalin ask if Bilbo wanted to stop and rest, only for the dwarf to be met with a negative. The heat alone would have been enough to have any of Dwalin’s previous trainees begging to stop, but Bilbo just kept going. Several of the falls had to have hurt, but the hobbit seemed to have been made of a really bouncy substance, since he hadn’t even rubbed at the landing area since his first fall. When the sun started to sink in the sky Thorin knew he had to call a stop to the training himself. He stepped out of his hiding place at the same time Dwalin chose to intercept one of Bilbo’s drills. 

“Dammit Dwalin!” Thorin froze mid step and spun away, he wasn’t getting his head handed to him on a platter again, and that hobbit was scary.

“Yes dear?” Dwalin’s words caused him to spin around and star at his friend in disbelief. 

Bilbo’s next words had him flushing to the roots of his hair and making a strategic retreat, “You better be planning on kissing all my bruises better after this.”

%

It was a lively bunch that gathered in the communal area that night. Bilbo’s mutterings had Kili especially in stitches, with Fili and Ori joining him the darker Dwalin blushed. Thorin had his nose buried in a fresh tome of elvish verse, fingers jammed steadfastly in his ears and eyes resolutely on the creamy pages. 

Bombur had cooked and the spicy lentil soup went down a treat, however Bilbo barely tasted his as he kept his eyes fixed on Dwalin. Waiting until most of the company were suitably distracted he grabbed the warrior’s hand and tugged him along behind him. 

“Bilbo?”

“Shush!”

A glance out of the corner of his eye told Bilbo that they were unlikely to be disturbed. He backed Dwalin against the wall and kept his voice low. “You know you asked if we were going to do that again.” He smirked as grey eyes flew open in understanding, even as a brilliant flush crept over Dwalin’s cheeks. “Well what say you we do that again but in one of the bathing rooms?”

The slamming of a door echoed around the communal area causing several of the dwarves to jump. “What the?” gasped Bofur, turning to a bright red Fili.

“Erm well that was Uncle Bilbo and Uncle Dwalin.” Chipped in Kili.

“Oh?” Nori turned to his younger brother, “Why did they feel the need to slam the door?”

Ori raised an eyebrow, glad that Dwalin wasn’t there and suddenly deciding he was not going to mollycoddle Bilbo, “I don’t know you tell me…after all he is Belladonna Took’s son.”

“What?” Gloin’s roar brought the attention of the company to him.

“Why are you screeching Gloin?” grumbled Balin. “I am sure she was a very nice lady.”

“Yeah she has to have been,” agreed a slightly less red Fili, “If she was Bilbo’s amad.”

“Certainly,” shrugged Bombur, “Who else would have taught him to cook half as well as he did?”

“Master Nori whatever is so funny?” questioned Oin.

Ori raised an eyebrow at that, “It is Nori, who knows.”


	42. Chapter 43 - If you want blood.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori and Kili

_Chapter Forty Three – If You Want Blood._

Bilbo hummed as he walked into the kitchen, the air was still cool and dawn had brought with it a rousing chorus of bird song. Bilbo smirked as he sauntered into the kitchen. He was sore all over, but they reasons for his learning to fight would keep him going, and if Dwalin continued to reward him so well then he would definitely be a fast learner. They might not have done anything more than kiss, but Dwalin’s face when Bilbo had straddled his naked thighs in the bath had been reward enough. The fact the dwarf had slept beside him throughout the night was another reason for the smile on his face. He progressed to whistling as he found ingredients to make his apple spiced porridge, and swung his hips to a beat only he could hear as he set about making breakfast.

“You know if you keep moving like that I might be tempted to take you up on that offer of more Bilbo.” The voice was husky and sleep-velveted.

Bilbo swung around and grinned cheekily, “Oh really?” he purred shifting the pan off the heat and stalking across the table and into Dwalin’s space. He wound his arms around Dwalin’s neck and pulled him into a searing kiss, the fact the dwarf was dressed in nothing but his under trousers made his heart pound and blood rush.

Dwalin hoisted him up and he wrapped his legs around the dwarf’s waist even as he was almost slammed against the opposite door frame. He dug his nails into Dwalin’s muscled shoulders and threw his head back with an un-muffled groan as the dwarf nipped his way down the column of his throat. He would obviously have to dance for his dwarf more if this was the reaction he got. He wound his fingers into strands of the silky hair hanging loose from its braids and tugged lightly. 

“Fuck!” breathed Dwalin against the skin of his collar bone. “Do you have anything on that will burn?”

“Nope!”

“Good.”

Bilbo yelped as he was tossed over one of Dwalin’s shoulders and the dwarf moved out of the kitchen. Rather than fight Bilbo merely smirked and ran his nails quite harshly over a cluster of tattoos on Dwalin’s left hip.

“Sweet Mahal!” groaned the dwarf, and Bilbo found himself righted and pushed against another doorframe. As his mouth was claimed in yet another bruising kiss, he deliberately pushed a leg between Dwalin’s and pulled the dwarf forward courtesy of a bruising grip on his arse.

“Oh Mahal NO!” Kili’s voice cut through the air as the door behind them opened. 

Dwalin froze and buried his head in Bilbo’s neck. Bilbo had no such embarrassment though and smirked into the young dwarf’s dark eyes as he slipped his hands up to toy with the waistband of Dwalin’s trousers.

“Yes Kili?” he asked innocently, even as he dipped his fingers below the waistband to rest lightly on Dwalin’s skin. 

Kili had a hand clamped over his eyes, “Uncle Bilbo just no. That’s…ick…no”

“Aww poor baby,” crooned Bilbo, tilting his head a smirk spreading over his face. “Porridge is on the oven Kili.” He licked his lips, “Make sure everyone gets fed would you lad, I might be a bit busy.” He pulled away from a brilliantly blushing Dwalin and pulled the dwarf after him, he paused at his bedroom door and glanced across at a still horrified Kili, “Don’t think on it lad.”

As the door shut behind them Bilbo turned to Dwalin, “Where were we?”

“Kili caught us Bilbo!” Dwalin was still blushing and could barely meet his eyes.

Bilbo growled and pressed forward, plastering the dwarf between his body and the door. “Your point?”

Grey eyes flew to his as Dwalin felt the evidence that being caught hadn’t affected Bilbo at all. “Shit.” He gasped as short nails dragged over his exposed hip bones, tracing the v below his stomach, “Bilbo,” he groaned as the hobbit’s free hand wound up in his hair and pulled. His eyes fluttered shut as soft lips were pressed to his. 

He let out a sound of protest when Bilbo suddenly pulled away from him. He opened his eyes at Bilbo’s dirty chuckle, “How much more do you want to know?”

“What?” mouth suddenly dry Dwalin stepped towards Bilbo only to be pushed into a sitting position on the bed. 

“I asked,” Bilbo quirked one corner of his mouth in a smile, voice dropping low as he toyed with the edge of the shirt he’d slept in, “How much more do you want to know?”

Dwalin swallowed hard, “What do you mean?”

Bilbo grinned and slipped his shirt off over his head, carefully flexing his stomach muscles as he did. Dwalin found he was staring and couldn’t look away, when Bilbo dragged his hands down his own chest to the loose ties at the top of his under trousers Dwalin’s mouth went dry and he sat forward eagerly unable to stop himself. Bilbo removed his hands and prowled forward, he pushed gently on Dwalin’s shoulders and the dwarf let himself be pushed down against the quilt, even as Bilbo straddled his hips and leant over him. The groan that left his mouth when Bilbo tugged his head back by his hair to expose his neck surprised him, and he gasped loudly as sharp teeth nipped his collar bone. Nails dragged over his chest tracing scars and tattoos, before lightly tugging on the silver stud Dwalin supported through his left nipple. His moan echoed around the room and he attempted to bite his lip to stop himself making any more noises. 

“Don’t.” Bilbo’s voice was little more than a growl as he rolled his hips, pulled on the stud and dragged his nails along his shaking pectoral muscles. Words blew hot air across the shell of his ear, “You never answered me Dwalin.” A sharp nip to the lobe of his ear made him arch into Bilbo’s chest, getting him a chuckle in response. He tried to make sense of what he’d just been asked. 

It was only as Bilbo shifted to press his hands either side of his head and was breathing deeply through his nose in an effort to calm down that Dwalin twigged. “Ah shit.” He gasped, hands roughly grabbing Bilbo’s hips, “I want everything Bilbo.”

Green-hazel eyes darkened by lust shot to his, “Everything,” the groan in the voice sparked something deep inside Dwalin and he slid his hands around to cup Bilbo ass.

“Aye Bilbo,” he gasped, “Everything.”

“Fuck Dwalin, you…” he watched as words failed his hobbit and he reacted almost on instinct, somehow rolling them so he was lying in the cradle of Bilbo’s hips. Strong fingers were on his skin, nails digging in desperately as he caught Bilbo’s mouth in a kiss. He was gasping and desperate by the time Bilbo claimed control of the kiss and he barely noticed the feel of cool air when Bilbo slid his trousers off, in amongst the other sensations he was feeling.

He did notice when his hobbit rolled them and stepped away from the bed. His eyes widened as he watched Bilbo slip free from his trousers and Dwalin swallowed hard as the hobbit’s eyes raked over his body. That Bilbo licked his lips sent heat pooling in his belly. “Nurv do lieb haar miz khuzi!” Bilbo growled prowling towards the bed. Dwalin panted just from the look in his eyes, the fact that Bilbo had shifted to the dwarf’s native tongue had him sweating. Bilbo’s grin grew and Dwalin knew he knew exactly what he was doing to the dwarf. As Bilbo slid his hands up his thighs Dwalin threw his head back and groaned low in his throat. “Dijnel miz Dwalin.”

The dwarf jumped as nails dragged across the inside of his thighs. “Ai,” he managed to gasp out, as hot wet kisses trailed across his hip bone. 

(Warning: Lemons. Skip this bit if you don't want to read.)***

Dwalin found that he would have been unable to be quiet even if he had tried. Bilbo's mouth was hot and wet on his member and the suction was driving him slowly out of his mind. He groaned in disappointment as Bilbo pulled back, hissing as nails scrapped lightly across his lower stomach. He finally managed to get his own limbs to co-operate and he hauled Bilbo up to lie on his chest, a moan tugging from his mouth as their erections ground together. Bilbo met his mouth in a steamy kiss, before dipping to drop kisses to any visible tattoo and scar he could reach. The sensations of his hobbit's hot tongue and teeth on his skin, combined with the heavy weight across his lap had him grasping narrow hips in a vain attempt to hold himself together. 

Bilbo grinned at him as he bent at the waist and somehow licked a stripe straight up a scar that ran from his belly button to his left nipple. The silver stud there was taken into that talented mouth and Dwalin cried out again as the sharp tug went straight to his groin. 

"Dammit Dwalin," Bilbo groan feeling the strength of the grip on his hips and the weight of his dwarf's erection pressing against his own balls. Cursed as he realised they had no lube present and with that realisation came the thought that he probably wouldn't last long anyway. His chest heaving he gently loosened Dwalin's fingers and drew the dwarf,s hands over his own skin. 

Dwalin startled from his pleasure induced haze as his hobbit used his own hands to trace across the creamy skin on show. It took a few moments, but he finally remembered he had reduced Bilbo to a shaking mess only a few days earlier. Using his strength he flipped them and letting a groan slip free started to kiss over Bilbo's unmared skin. He took his time exploring the slender male's chest, finding that his collar bone caused him to twitch against where he lay on Dwalin's stomach. The drag of his beard over Bilbo's nipples caused the hobbit to arch from the sheets, and if he swirled his tongue over the nubs the hobbit would cry out brokenly in a language he didn't under stand. Remembering Bilbo's response to the kisses on his scars, Dwalin used the opportunity of the other male arching his back to drag his nails lightly over them. 

That seemed to be Bilbo's trigger for his eyes fluttered shut, even as he inched a hand between them and with a whispered 'don't stop' he managed to get his fingers around them both. Dwalin snapped his hips forward at the sensation and realised he really wouldn't be lasting long. 

"Bilbo?"

Green-hazel eyes fluttered open, "Don't worry I am...ah...so close as well." His hobbit's voice was shaking and reassured Dwalin dragged his nails across Bilbo's back, before latching onto the hobbit's collar bone by mistake when the other male gave a particularly good twist of his hand that sent him over the edge. Bilbo followed closely behind him and Dwalin found it was some moments before he could move. Even then that was to roll to one side and gasp for air. 

He opened his eyes to find Bilbo hovering over him. "Let's get cleaned up yes?"

Nodding Dwalin was about to force himself to sit up when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"No!" Bilbo's grin was wicked and Dwalin felt his pulse rocket again, "You just lay there." 

As Bilbo's clever tongue danced across the mess on his stomach Dwalin was surprised to realise he had enough energy to think about round two.

(Lemon finished. You can look now.) ***

%

Bofur had walked into the kitchen to see a white faced Kili resolutely stirring porridge at the stove. “Laddie?” he questioned. “Why are you cooking breakfast two days in a row?”

Kili barely glanced up, “Uncle Bilbo told be to,” he muttered, “Uh huh Uncle Bilbo said make porridge, told me to make sure everyone was fed. I’m doing what Uncle Bilbo said. Not thing about that nooo not thinking about that at all.” 

Bofur shook his head as he backed from the kitchen slowly, even as Kili was still rambling. He wasted little time and Ori had a sudden awakening, “Ori get up now!” Bofur’s accent was in full force and Ori looked at him blearily, “Git up! N’w. Summit ‘ron’ wiv Kili.”

That barely took two seconds to sink in. Ori wasted even less time than Bofur had and was up and out of his door in seconds, failing to realise he was shirtless. He reached the kitchen and without breaking stride pulled Kili away from the stove, and forcefully turning him around pulled him into a massive hug. “Bofur!” he snapped look after whatever that is.” He carefully lowered his voice, “Come on Kili we’re going to go sit outside and enjoy the morning.” He swore mentally as the brunette merely sniffled and nodded against his neck. He led the young dwarf to the terrace overlooking the herb garden and forcefully made him sit down. “Now tell me what is wrong.” 

Kili stared across at a concerned looking Ori, wondering exactly where to start. “Do you mean right at this moment or generally?”

Ori raised an eyebrow and grabbed both of Kili’s hands to stop him twists his fingers nervously. “Let’s start with right now Kili.” He crouched so he was on eye level with the seated dwarf. “’Coz you obviously need to talk. Bofur burst into my room rambling about something being wrong with you.”

Kili grumbled indistinguishably for a few seconds. “Uncle Bilbo and Uncle Dwalin were kissing on my door this morning,” he blurted, watching as Ori’s eyes widened, “Oh and you’re not wearing a shirt and obviously think of me as just a friend. Bofur came to get you instead of Fili, which is confusing. I rambled embarrassingly at Bofur when he asked me why I was making breakfast two days in a row. I made breakfast two days in a row. Something about Bilbo’s mother upset Gloin. Uncle Bilbo’s learning to fight from Uncle Dwalin. Uncle Thorin’s reading elven poetry and songs and crap. Gandalf has disappeared. My brother wants Bofur, but has no idea how to go about telling the miner, I think Bofur wants my brother but doesn’t know it and he also thinks Fili has a One back in Ered Luin. I think Uncle Balin might have a thing for you oldest brother, which is kind of giving me bad mental images. Uncle Bilbo knows about my past and I’ve never told anyone but Fili and Gloin and that’s only ‘coz they were there even amad doesn’t know." 

He took a deep breath, "We are staying with elves Ori, elves. We didn’t trust Uncle Bilbo when we first met him and were horrible to him, but he has been nothing but nice to us. He knows something about this quest that none of us do as well, he looks horrified when we bring up Erebor. The dragon’s supposed to have not been seen of sixty years. Talking of Erebor I haven’t even seen the place we are on this journey to reclaim. I’ve learnt more of our people’s history from you when you showed me that garden that I have from Balin in nearly eighty years. I haven’t had a chance to practice with my bow in ages, or spar with Fi ‘coz he’s always with Bofur. Bifur seems to have some sort of understanding with your older brother, Bifur hasn’t gotten on that well with anyone outside of Bofur and Bombur in all time I’ve known him and…”

Ori silenced him by dint of covering his mouth with his hand. “Right and just how long have you been bottling this up?” he sighed and removed his hand sliding onto the seat next to the brunette. “Let’s start at the beginning shall we? Bilbo and Dwalin were doing WHAT now?” 

Kili eyed Ori carefully, “Kissing on my door.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Muttered Ori rubbing his tired eyes, “I know they are courting but why would they have been kissing on you door?”

“I don’t know,” Kili wrinkled his nose with distaste, “Uncle Dwalin was embarrassed but Uncle Bilbo didn’t care, he even pulled them both into his room after he told me to keep an eye on breakfast.”

Ori stared at the dwarf sitting next to him for several long moments. “Oh Mahal.” He groaned slumping, “I know I’m good with words and I read a lot but this is not a conversation I want to be having.”

Kili narrowed his eyes, “There are books on kissing?” he watched in amazement as Ori started to blush and the colour started to travel down his friend’s neck.

“Erm, well it was a human book from east somewhere called the Ka…Ka-something-or-other. It wasn’t really about kissing, it may have been what comes after kissing.” Ori deliberately didn’t look at Kili, who he could feel staring at the side of his face.

“After kissing?” Kili was confused, “Wait there is more than kissing and hugs and holding hands?” 

“Fuck Kili,” groaned Ori wonder why he was the one having to have this conversation. He actually thought Kili was his One but that just made this more embarrassing for him. 

“Apparently.” He muttered wondering how he could explain, “Although the book I found was for humans and between male and female. It might be different for dwarves, especially since most of our couples are single sex.”

“Yes Ori I understand, but why do none of the older dwarves tell us there is more than kissing?” 

Ori swallowed, “I don’t think they know Kili. Or the ones that do find it embarrassing to talk about. You should be thankful, the only two who I know of being bonded are Bombur and Gloin.”

Kili cringed imagining having this sort of talk with them, “Okay not thinking about that, you’ve just given me horrible dreams for the foreseeable future Ori. Thanks.”

“No problem,” muttered Ori. “Kili,” he paused wondering how to frame this, “Why are you asking me about this? What about Bilbo? I mean he obviously knows more than any of us about it.”  


“If he wasn’t with Uncle Dwalin I might have asked, I don’t want to go there now.”

“That’s understandable,” sighed Ori, he finally raised his head, swallowing nervously when he saw Kili was staring at his chest and not the side of his face as he’d thought. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he squeaked crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

Kili started and Ori watched fascinated as a blush spread over his cheeks, “You didn’t hear what I said in my rant did you?”

Ori was puzzled and wondered why the brunette sounded nervous. He thought back carefully, freezing when he played back a certain line. “Kili?” he gasped, eyes wide. 

“It’s okay Ori I know you don’t like me like that and I promise I won’t stare again it’s just I’ve never seen you without a shirt and I couldn’t help it and please don’t stop being friends with me.” He bit his bottom lip as he stared across the narrow space at Ori. The other dwarf hadn’t moved and Kili was suddenly terrified he’d mucked it up. He pushed quickly to his feet and left the balcony with tears clawing at his throat.

Ori growled as he watched Kili retreat, staring stupidly until his brain caught up. Kili liked him back. Prince though Kili was and son of a merchant though Ori was, Kili liked him. Kili was walking away from him. He darted after the young dwarf and caught his arm just as they rounded a corner of the path. He pulled the brunette to a stop and stepped into his personal space. “Did you mean it?” he gasped.

Kili felt his bottom lip tremble and tried to talk with out his voice shaking, “That I wouldn’t look again and that I was sorry? Yes I meant it. Please don’t be mad at me Ori.”

Ori stepped forward, forcing Kili to step back against a tree trunk, “Not about that,” he almost growled, stopping himself from reaching out in case it was a cruel joke, “about liking me?” 

Kili froze, “Crap, yes. Oh Mahal you hate me for it.”

“No I don’t Kili,” Ori’s voice was soft and he finally allowed himself to pull Kili into his chest, “I can’t hate you for it because it would be hypocritical of me. He ran his hands in soothing circles on Kili’s back, shuddering when the younger dwarf slid his hands over his bare back to return the hold. Goosebumps followed in the wake of Kili’s fingers and Ori swallowed, “You don’t know how much I have prayed to hear you say those words Kili. How I wanted you to return my feelings.” He gripped the back of the prince’s tunic tighter. “Kili I like you back.”

“Really?”

The hot air against his neck caused the fine hairs on his arms to stand up and Ori was suddenly understanding a very small portion of what he’d read in that book. “Really Kili,” he whispered untangling himself and pushing the brunette gently back against the tree trunk. “Can I kiss you Kili? I know we haven’t courted or anything like that but I really want to kiss you.”

“Ori.” Kili’s voice was full of wonder and he might have kicked himself for sounding so young if it weren’t for the awed emotion in Ori’s brown eyes. “One kiss can’t hurt can it?” He whispered, wrapping his arms around Ori’s bare waist “Besides if you would let me court you no one will ever leave us alone as soon as they find out.”

“Shush Kili of course I want to court you and I know it is wrong and we shouldn’t but if you don’t tell me to stop I am going to kiss you now since you agreed.” Ori leant in slowly, letting his own hands slid around Kili’s narrow waist. He gently touched their lips together. The kiss was chaste and short, but it left both of them smiling like idiots. Ori rested his forehead lightly against Kili’s, “I suppose I should go put a shirt on.” He sighed.

“Must you?” sassed Kili, before sobering, “no wait, I have two tunics on and you can borrow one if you spend the day with me without us having to go back in there. I really don’t want to share you.” He bumped their foreheads affectionately, “We can go to that garden room you showed me and talk. Please Ori.”

“I shouldn’t and Thorin will skin me, but I want to make the most of our time without anyone knowing and interfering so I agree, on one condition.” Ori breathed in the smell that was uniquely Kili as he waited for a reply.

Kili had shut his eyes as Ori talked, but pried them open at that, “What condition?”

Ori reached up and ran his fingers into Kili’s unbound hair. “You let me put a braid in this and wear my bead.”

Kili smirked, “That I can live with because it means I can do the same for you.” 

Ori chuckled and pulled away slightly only to entwine their fingers, “Shall we move before we run into anyone then?”

Kili paused, “You don’t want my shirt first?”

Ori smirked, “You want me to cover up?”

Kili shook his head firmly, “No not really but I promised I wouldn’t look.”

Ori flushed lightly, “Kili you are the only one who can look.”

“In that case then I’m not giving you my tunic until we head back.” He huffed as Ori started to walk, “Would you like to learn how to use a bow and arrow?” he raised the hand Ori had used to capture his and examined the long fingers, “You have the hands for it.”

Ori looked carefully at Kili, “I would love to if you will be my teacher.”

Kili nodded happily, before cautiously asking his next question, “Will you teach me to write as beautifully as you please Ori, I am rather jealous of your calligraphy skills.”

Ori nodded and pressed a light kiss to the back of the hand he had captured. “It would be my pleasure Kili.” He smirked, “I will see if the elves have a copy of that book I was telling you about if you want.”

Kili tilted his head, considering what Ori had told him about that book carefully, “I’d rather you just surprised me with what you know.” He admitted after a few moments.

Ori nodded as he drew Kili through the gate and into their garden room, “I’d be delighted to,” he whispered. 

The sun slanted through the branches of the trees hanging over the valley and filled the garden room with rainbows. Ori tugged Kili after him, detouring around the bench and to the moss covered rocks at the bottom of the wrought iron fence. With the sound of the stream, the rainbow light off the crystals and the sweet scent off the jasmine and woodruff he felt like he had stepped into a dream. When he sank to the ground and Kili followed him he found himself wondering if he had indeed slipped into sleep at some point. A soft hand on his knee made him look up and he found himself staring deep into Kili's endless eyes. He reached shaking fingers up to cup the side of the brunette's jaw and watched as delicate eyelids fluttered shut as Kili turned his face to nuzzle at the inside of Ori's wrist.

Suddenly aware of being shirtless and the criss-crossing silver threads scarring his back Ori dropped his hand and tried to shuffle further towards the fence at his back. Kili's eyes snapped open and warm hands closed around his wrists as the archer moved to kneel in front of him. Ori shot him a shaky smile and Kili leant forward to press their foreheads together. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut as a warm gentle hand closed around the nape of his neck. His breathing slowed as he returned the gesture and revelled in the intimacy of the situation. It was Kili who drew back, but since the archery callused fingers were carding through his hair Ori could find it in himself to be too disappointed. The brush of nails on his scalp tickled and he giggled softly. Kili's rich laugh rewarded him and he opened his eyes to peer into Kili's eyes. The younger dwarf's face was alight with joy and Ori could see some of his own disbelief reflected in brown-black eyes. He ran his own fingers through Kili's hair, marvelling at the silky-softness of the unbound tresses.

Kili leant into Ori's hand, his own falling uselessly at his sides. He could feel his chest vibrating and somewhere it sounded like a cat was purring, but he wasn't going to speak and distract Ori. The hands in his hair felt heavenly and he wondered why he didn't let people touch his hair more often (Fili and mother were always after him to let them braid it). He opened his eyes that he hadn't realised had fluttered shut when he realised Ori was talking. 

"You really enjoy me doing this?" There was awe in the well-read dwarf's voice and Kili frowned as the hands in his hair stopped their petting. He nodded slowly and was rewarded by Ori running a hand over his hair, stroking the length lightly. "I always thought you hated anything being done to your hair and that is why you never braided it." Ori's voice was soft and he could detect none of the judgement normally found in the voices of others when they found he didn't braid his hair.

He cleared his throat, "I keep enough of it clipped back that it doesn't interfere with my archery, but I have never found anything worth braiding into my hair. After all anyone that needs to, knows who my family is, and anyone who only wants to know me because of that doesn't need the braids so they can suck up to me. Don't stop." He pleaded the last as Ori had stopped and clenched his fists.

"Please Ori!" Brown eyes flashed to his face and he saw anger on his behalf before they softened and gentle hands were using his shoulders to turn him around. 

"What?"

He heard Ori shift behind him and leant back against the bare chest as hands started to comb through the length of his hair again. "Would it scare you if I told you that the only time I have really wanted a braid was when you said you wanted to put a braid in my hair?"

"That doesn't scare me Kili." Ori's voice was soft with an emotion Kili couldn't decipher without seeing his eyes, but the hands hadn't stopped and the dwarf was a warm weight at his back. He tilted his head as Ori trailed a finger around his ear and down his neck, shivering slightly as goose-bumps ran over his skin as Ori whispered in his ear, "So you wouldn't mind me putting my braid in now?"

"Please." Kili's voice was no more than a whisper and Ori felt his eyes widen even as he settled himself more comfortably. He kept petting the soft dark hair as he wondered where he should put the braid and how he would tie it off. As he brushed over the soft spot behind Kili's ear he nodded and dropped a kiss to the soft skin there. He raised an eyebrow at the shiver, but as Kili didn't complain merely brushed most of the dark locks over to the other side of the dwarf's head. He started to braid slowly, working the braid from the front of the head and along the scalp, before starting the intricate weave down its length. He finished and held it in place with his grandmother's hair clasp, the wooden, fanged bead held the dark hair perfectly and he was delighted to find he had made the braid just thick enough. Kili seemed to have been lulled into doze with his administrations so he wrapped an arm around the brunette's slender waist and shifted them so they were relaxing against the fence. He could help but keep running his fingers through the soft darkness of Kili's hair though and found he was content watching the play of light over the younger male's face.

Kili found himself having the most delightful daydream. It wasn't until the hand in his hair stopped that he realised it was all happening in reality. He shifted so he could rest his head on Ori's chest, Ori drew a sharp breath but merely wrapped his other arm around Kili's waist so the brunette didn't think anything of it. He rested a hand on the pale skin of the scholarly dwarf's chest and wondered at the difference in the colour. Ori's skin was pale and smooth with barely visible silver scars running across it. Kili's heart clenched as he remembered Dori staggering into Ered Luin the unconscious, bloody body of his brother cradled in his arms. It hadn't been the most romantic of meetings (especially since Ori had been unconscious) but Kili had found his anger flooding him at the sight and he forced the crowds to clear, leading Dori to the royal healer himself. He had camped outside of the young dwarf's door for days, leaving only when his mother forced him too. When Ori had awoken he'd taken the dwarf handmade puzzles and even dug out his own calligraphy set (the one he'd been given as a birthday gift and never used) along with some parchment. He'd thought he would be the one entertaining Ori, yet it was the much too skinny dwarf who had kept him amused for the duration of his stay in the healers' wing.

When Ori left the wing for the home Dori had managed to make them, Kili didn't see him as much and yet the scholarly dwarf never forgot his birthday and was always there when he had an achievement in his weapons training. Even after the incident that meant the pair of them recoiled from physical contact with everyone but each other (rather than just Ori) or maybe because of it, they became closer friends and Kili was the one who helped Dori arrange a party for Ori's coming of age. He sighed and moved his hand so his arms were wrapped around Ori even as he buried his nose into the slender neck. It felt right to be wrapped in this dwarf's arms, it felt right to wear his braid, and really if he hadn't been so blind he could have had this years ago.

Ori wondered what Kili was thinking as the brunette snuggled further into his side. He found his thoughts going back to when they were both much younger, a couple of years after he had arrived in Ered Luin. He hadn't seen Kili for months and was missing his friend, there was whispers of the wandering dwarves return and he was itching to go and visit. He refrained and instead wandered across the town to the underwork Hall of Records. He wasted a few hours scribing down births and deaths as an elder healer dictated to him until the older dwarf admitted they were tired. He had assisted the elder to their quarters and decided he could go and get something from the market

. It had gone to Mordor from there. He'd whipped his head around when he'd heard snide whispers about Kili and his temper boiled over. He'd flung the sneering guard clear across the square and broken the jaw of the smirking inn keeper. His actions caught the attention of the rest of the guards and he found himself in a situation to similar to his past. This time though, his blood was up, he was relatively well fed and Nori had taught him some tricks. It wasn't until he slammed into Kili and sent the brunette to the floor that he'd realised he'd managed to get to the royal quarters without being caught. The fact Kili had launched himself up and clung to him, shaking with the force of his sobs had been the only reason he'd escaped arrest. Now he was looking back with a clearer mind, the Lady Dis had looked at him with approval and relief. Gloin had also been there and had gotten between the guards and him. The red haired dwarf had been livid and Ori could remember curling around Kili, protecting him from the loud voices as if they were blows. He turned his head and buried his nose in Kili's hair. They were so oblivious back then. They had to have been, because it felt so right to hold Kili in his arms.

It wasn't until a chill settled into the air that either of them moved. Hearing Ori mutter curses at the coolness and attempt to burrow into his back Kili chuckled softly and pulled out of the older dwarf's arms. "Here Ori," he muttered, voice slightly muffled by the tunic he was pulling over his head, "Not that I want to cover up your chest, but it'll be warmer." He felt his jaw drop as he took in Ori wearing his clothes. Something warm settled in his chest and he knelt, placing a hand on the auburn-haired dwarf's cheek as he did. "I know it is against the rules, but…I mean…we've…can I kiss you?" Ori nodded eagerly and Kili leant forward to press their lips together. A warm arm slid around his waist and a hand threaded in his hair, but the kiss remained sweet and comforting. When he broke away it was with a gentle smile and he was happy to see Ori's eyes were shining with joy. He tugged lightly on Ori's one braid. "Can I put my braid in your hair now?"

Ori felt himself grin as he nodded and let Kili move his head how he wanted it. The tunic smelt slightly like the dwarf fussing with his hair and he buried his nose in it and inhaled in lieu for the real thing. The material was soft against his skin, but what was keeping him warm was the thought that it was Kili's. He ran a hand down the braid Kili had just clipped off, eyes widening as he felt the clasp at the end of it. He knew without looking that the bead was blue and silver, with a small amount of turquoise. He pulled Kili around even as he was moving and pressed their lips together.

Kili's rumbling stomach broke the embrace, and he chuckled bashfully until Ori's stomach answered it. Meeting each other's eyes they started to laugh and it took them a while to calm down.

They wandered back to the wing that had been given to the company for their stay and if their fingers entwined occasionally they didn't care. Shoulder to shoulder, an arm around each other's waist. They stopped just short of entering and leant their heads together under the gathering dusk. Their noses brushed and Kili darted forward to press a swift kiss to Ori's pouting lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nurv do haar lieb miz khuzi= need to hear you my warrior  
> Dijnel miz = trust me.  
> Ai = yes


	43. Chapter 44 -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur and Bilbo

_Chapter Forty Four – May it Be. ___

The company, bar Bilbo, Ori, Dwalin and Kili were gathered in the communal area once again. 

Thorin groaned when he realised that one of his nephews was missing, but relaxed slightly when he was informed the younger prince was with Ori. He would come to no harm with the Son of Ri and might even learn something useful. 

He glanced around the seated dwarves, wondering where Dwalin and the hobbit could have disappeared to and if he would need to go and look for them yet again.

Fili was sitting stupidly close to the miner, Bofur, but the lad had been trying to learn how to carve since he was but a mite and the Ur family held the two best craftsmen he’d ever met. He shook his head as he watched them interact, deciding he wouldn’t say anything yet about the fact his oldest nephew had caught onto the hobbit’s physical interactions. He raised an eyebrow when his heir threw an arm around the miner’s shoulders, reminding himself that he wasn’t saying anything, even if that was a bit risqué. 

Bifur’s growl caught his attention and he turned his eyes to where the toymaker and the middle Ri brother had chosen to sit. The two seemed to be in deep discussion about something and from the serious expression on Nori’s face it wasn’t a light hearted one. Bifur seemed horrified by whatever he was been told and kept shaking his head in denial.

Torn between wanting to know just what they were talking about or running far away Thorin turned his attention to the oldest Ri brother. Dori was knitting. Again. Thorin rubbed his left hand slightly, the grey haired dwarf might look an easy target but Thorin had learnt he could wield those needles with deadly precision. He did have to wonder just who the dwarf was knitting for this time. Ori certainly didn’t need any more knits, Nori didn’t wear wool and Bilbo had nearly cried when he was presented with a pair of brown mittens.

He peered closer at the wool Dori was using. It was a deep shade of carmine and looked to be softer than anything he had seen the older dwarf using before. Fascinated he watched as the silver needles flashed in the morning sunlight, intricate patterns forming in whatever clothing item was being made.

It took Thorin a moment to realise Dori was humming as he worked and a longer moment to remember the tune as an old dwarven ballad Balin had sung when he used to take care of him in Erebor. He closed his eyes as memories washed over him.

Thorin wasn’t the only one to notice Dori’s humming and across the hall Balin raised his head and shot a warm smile at the eldest of the Ri family. He started to hum along with the song, his slightly higher baritone meshing well with Dori’s deeper bass. Oin looked up from where he was attempting to darn a pair of socks and started softly singing along, his earthy bass making the words roll through the air. Silence came to the communal area shortly after, with Bifur picking up the song in his gravelly tenor and despite his input being in De KhuzdTunng the beauty of the song held everyone’s heart.

Dori allowed himself a wry smile where he still sat knitting. He thought the song was apt for the Company. A wayward son attempts to return home to where his heart lies, his journey wrought with dangers and evil, he arrives to find his home in ruins and his people scattered to the winds. 

A single tear slid down Thorin’s cheek unnoticed as he allowed himself to sing the last line of the song, “Morn venaunag do uz allaz!”

Several moments of silence followed as the final note died out. The younger dwarves had their heads lowered in respect for what had been, while the elders held a fist to their breasts in a salute to those they had lost. Nori was the first to move slipping silently out into the midday sun and away into the shadows of the tree-lined paths. Slowly, one-by-one the resent members of the company separated to mourn in peace. 

%

Bofur alone remained in the communal area. The miner had drew himself into a corner as the singing was progressing, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Fili. Memories he had long locked away flooded his mind as the song wound on and he barely managed to keep hold of his composure as they sang the final line. He had managed, by dint of digging his nails into his palms, to nod to Fili as the blond dwarf left for his own solitude. He hadn’t managed to reassure his brother or cousin though. Left alone Bofur allowed the first of his tears to fall as he hugged his knees to his chest and attempted to still his trembling, oblivious to what was going on around him.

He didn’t know how long he sat, silent tears falling down his cheeks but suddenly he was being pulled into a warm hold, the scent of home filling his nose as he flung himself forward to sob into the offered shoulder. Soothing circles were being rubbed onto his back, as a gentle voice sang softly in his ear. The words made little sense to his memory ravaged mind, but the tone was soothing and the hands calming. He curled his fingers into a soft tunic, hiding his face in the silken hair of his comforter. He didn’t care about propriety or traditions at that moment he needed to be held, be grounded. The voice stopped him retreating to deep into his own head and the arms around his waist and shoulders stopped him fleeing to loose himself. 

“Bofur my friend,” The words slowly filtered into his mind as his sobs quietened. “Please my friend what ails you?” he shook his head unwilling to burden someone with memories he’d thought he’d successfully locked away. “Bofur?”

He suddenly realised who was holding him and had he any energy left would have fought to put distance between them. As if reading his thoughts the arms around him tightened and he found himself leaning against a strong chest. “Fili?” he whispered.

“Aye Bofur,” the voice was still soft, soothing without being patronising. “I am here my friend.”

“Th’nk ye lad,” he whispered into the golden hair he was still hiding his face in, “Ye dinna need t be worriting owa me thow.” He winced slightly as he managed to completely destroy Westron with his accent.

“Of course I do Bofur. You are my friend. You have cared for me. Taught me. Sparred with me. Laughed with me. You were the one who chased away my night terrors. You are the one who shows me patience when I mess up time and again. I care about you, you daft dwarf so don’t you be telling me not to be worrying myself over you.” The voice was less soothing now, but Bofur found he didn’t mind. There was passion behind the words and the emotional response was helping him to clear his head. 

Still his emotional out pouring had left him tired and he merely shifted his head so he wasn’t hiding his face anymore. “In tha’ case thank ye Fili.” 

“It is no problem." There was a pause as if Fili was thinking something over, “Bofur?” the voice was quiet again and Bofur closed his eyes, “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

He snorted slightly, but Fili was going on. “It sounds clichéd but I think it helps. Not that talking about it suddenly makes it all better, but that having someone who knows means you don’t have to face the darkness alone.”

Bofur stilled completely at the exhausted tone in the blonde’s voice. How could he have forgotten that Fili and Kili had been younger than him when the worm came? How could he have forgotten that they spent most of the dwarfling years on the road, never really having a home? He closed his eyes as guilt washed over him. “Whit do ye want to know Fili?”

“Tell me what upset you Bofur. Please! I cannot help with it this time but I can try my damndest that it doesn’t happen again!” The emotion was back, only this time Bofur struggled to place it. 

He sighed, attempting to compose himself, “Twas the song Fili. That damned ballad. I thought I’d locked it all tightly away, but summit about tha’ song unlocked it.” He hissed, angrily, ashamed of his own weakness. “I gave into the memories I let them control me.”

“Bo.” Fili’s voice was almost a caress, and there was suddenly a soft hand on his cheek. Unable to fight it Bofur turned to face Fili, only to find the blond used it as a chance to frame his face and keep him looking at him. He barely noticed the nickname he’d gained. 

“Bo. You are not weak!” He flinched slightly at the fierce frown the prince was supporting, but the younger dwarf was forging on. “You are not weak. That you have managed to get so far without giving into the night terrors the rest of us…even Uncle Dwalin and Uncle Bilbo get is a show of your strength.” 

Bofur found himself leaning forward and gently touched their foreheads together. Fili’s voice softened with the move. “You cannot forget about it all though Bofur, I wish you could. I wish there was some way to take your bad memories and destroy them so that you were only left with the good.” Bofur frowned as Fili’s voice shook and he slid a hand to grasp the nape of the blonde’s neck. “I can’t though Bofur and even if I could and did you wouldn’t be Bofur. You wouldn’t be the dwarf sitting in front of me now.”

“I never…Fili I…” Bofur struggled with his words. He didn’t know what to say to that he really didn’t. So instead he chose to do something he’d never done before. He chose to share his past. 

“I was a wee bit older than ye when t’ worm came Fili. I had started my apprenticeship in t’ mines. I was in love with the rock, it talked to me ye know. Oh not how-dee-do-dee and morning, but it told me its secrets. Let me know where I could find gems, and jewels and gold as bright as your hair. Bryn we called it. Yellow Gold. We were deep in the mines when the beast came. The ground around us shook, and rocks rained from above us. Scaffolding toppled and all around I could hear screams. Then came the darkness and the silence. We thought at first it had been a cave in. That people would be sent to rescue us. We had supplies, enough to last us for two weeks." His voice cracked and Bofur cleared his throat.

"We had medical supplies and so we turned the lamps low and treated what we could. We rationed t’ supplies, and attempted not to think about t’ bodies slowly degrading only a jump away from us in t’ darkness. T’ lights went first and we still had heard no sign of rescue. T’ darkness was absolute and t’ silence was deafening. Even t’ rock wouldn’t speak t’ us. We lost those who were badly injured first and it ‘twas then we knew we had to move deeper, had to make our way to the emergency doors.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. 

“T’ food and water ran out while we were still a day’s walk away. We were only three when we reached t’ doors. Three out of three hundred. Several of t’ doors wouldn’t open, jammed from t’ outside. I think it was then I realised it had been no ordinary cave in. We finally found one that worked and fell through it, joyous until the silence, darkness and smell of burnt flesh weighed down on us. It…Mahal it was awful. We crept silently from the mines towards the main paths and roads. Skeletons and ash and destruction. We were exhausted, dehydrated and supporting several infected cuts each. Ye asked about my scars Fili, t’ ones on my hands might be from when I turned to toy making, but ye didn’t know about me others. I blame t’ damned worm for those.” 

Bofur swallowed and rested his head more firmly on Fili’s. Grounding himself as he thought about what he’d seen during his escape from Erebor. “Mahal be praised we made it from t’ kingdom without rousing t’ beast. I won’ tell ye what I saw Fili. I won’ do it. I recognised some of the dead, burnt and broken as they were. I had to pull Valig away from what we assume was his sister, she was partially buried under the front of their home. We passed one of Nori’s fighting squadron as we fled through t’ open doors. I can remember my thoughts flying to my family and friends then. We were running and we knew not if anyone else had made it Fili. You cannot imagine our relief when we came across the camp of survivors under the boughs of the fading Mirkwood. I found that out of all my numerous kin that only Bifur and Bombur had survived. My sister-in-law, heavily pregnant was attempting to treat the injured and Bom was attempting to make food from the little they had. We brought them no good news.” 

Bofur allowed himself a small smile at Fili and moved them so they were leaning back against a wall, “I gave up my tattered remains of my cape to keep a dark haired, brown eyed child warm against the chill that had set in. Bom scolded me roundly for that, reminding me I was barely a tween myself. He didn’t realise I had seen the laddie and his golden haired brother curled up shivering when I had arrived. Strange isn’t it that the first time I met a royal member of the line of Durin was upon our fleeing our homes. I watched so many die that winter. Young, old. Male, female. Warriors, crafters, workers and nobles. The illness and cold took them all. I watched the grief deepen and hatred begin to grow. I watched as friend became foe. As the underworld started to network in the open, those that normally kept us safe unable to do anything. Thorin and lady Dis were all that kept my faith. My family turned to them and they gave to us time and time again.”

Bofur frowned angrily at the insignia of Durin he could see on the clasp in Fili’s hair. “I swore allegiance to your uncle when Thror refused to settle into Ered Luin, I did not see it through unbiased eyes. I refused to believe that we needed more than a place we could return to for shelter and a base we could use for trade. That Bifur was carried back from Azanulbizar with that fucking axe in his head only confirmed my belief. My faith in Thorin was rocked when Bifur disappeared. I know now he was fighting his own daemons but at t’ time I was barely of age and quite willing to blame him for everything.” He twisted strands of golden hair around his fingers, rather surprised and pleased that Fili hadn’t retreated from him at his venom filled words.

Swallowing he pushed on. “I left Ered Luin, believing Bom would be better off without me there to have to worry over. I wasn’t very savvy when it came to the ways of men and I was mugged several times. Not that I had much to take mind ye. I became distrustful of the race of man, I watched through jaded eyes at how they treated their women folk, how they treated each other. I wandered for years, leant several more risqué trades and still I couldn’t find peace. I dinna like violence, I niver have. Tha’ hasn’t changed no matter whit I’ve seen owa the years. It was after I was mugged for the twelfth time that I tried to end it. My own daemons wouldna give me peace day nor night. Broken and blooded as I was it shouldn’t have taken much. I’d been cut deep and I should have died. I didn’t bother to try and patch meself up. I divnt know if I would have gone to t’ arms of t’ maker…” 

Lost in memories Bofur failed to notice Fili stiffen at his addmition, “She found me then. Saved my life. Healed me body and mind. Patched up my soul. Darkness had already claimed me and it was cold, oh so cold. I felt fear greater than any I’d ever felt, I tried to fight, knowing suddenly I didna wanna pass on. I wanted to live. Mahal himself musta heard my plea as the next thing I heard was the sweetest voice, full of emotion singing to me as soft hands wiped my brow. I canne remember the full song but it started like this:

May it be an evening star  
Shines down upon you…  
Wish I could remember the words.”

Bofur fell silent and struggled not to cry as Fili tightened his arms again.

The song started softly and when it filtered through to his mind Bofur sat bolt upright and stared around in fright. Bilbo met his eyes and nodded slightly raising his voice,  


“May it be an evening star  
Shines down upon you  
May it be when darkness falls  
Your heart will be true  
You walk a lonely road  
Oh! How far you are from home

Mornie utulie  
Believe and you will find your way  
Mornie alantie  
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadow's call  
Will fly away  
May it be you journey on  
To light the day  
When the night is overcome  
You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utulie  
Believe and you will find your way

Mornie alantie  
A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now (1)”

Bofur swallowed as he and Fili stared at a slightly tearful Bilbo. The hobbit smiled softly at them. 

“Grandmother Baggins taught me that song. She used to sing it to me when I was ill.” Bofur sprung from his seat and wrapped the hobbit in a massive hug, shoulders shaking with wild sobs again. “Shush Bofur,” crooned Bilbo softly, carefully manoeuvring them so they were sitting on the floor rather than perched dangerously on the arm of a chair.

He beckoned Fili over and as soon as the blonde dwarf reached them pulled him down into a hug. Carefully lowering his voice he whispered in the dwarf’s rounded ear. “Stay with him, I’ll put some lavender tea on.”

Fili didn’t reply merely wrapped his arms tightly around Bofur and held on until Bilbo returned. Between them they managed to get Bofur to drink nearly a full cup of the lavender tea before the dwarf dozed off. Fili shifted them so the miner wouldn’t get a crick in his neck as he slept and looked up at Bilbo. The hobbit smiled reassuringly at him. “Sleep Fili. I will keep watch over the two of you.”

%

Having calmed down Thorin returned to the communal area and was pulled up short by what he saw. His nephew had the miner wrapped in his arms, both of them asleep. He opened his mouth to shout and demand an explanation when he noticed Bilbo was carding his fingers through Fili’s golden hair and was glowering something fierce. He looked closer at the two dwarves and suddenly felt guilty when he spotted the dried tear tracks on Bofur’s cheeks and his reddened eyes. Fili looked wane and drawn, taking comfort from the miner in as much as he was giving it. Bilbo was obviously watching over them, but even his green-hazel eyes were haunted. Thorin swallowed at the promise held in the un-bearded face, remembering the hobbit’s promise at the human ruins. He nodded and instead of setting up a fuss crossed to his room, quietly shutting the door behind him. 

The worst of the dwarves dealt with Bilbo settled for frowning at any dwarf who made a noise as the returned to the area. It was apparently enough to keep them quiet. His heart lightened slightly when he spotted Kili and Ori slink in through the lengthening shadows at the door. He raised an eyebrow when he realised Ori was wearing Kili’s tunic and bit back an unexpected chuckle when the dwarf took advantage of the distraction offered by Fili and Bofur stirring to slip into his own room. Kili looked torn, but upon Bilbo beckoning him over came over to the hobbit’s side. Bilbo checked the gathered dwarves and realised only three were missing. “Ki?”

“Yes Uncle Bilbo.” 

“Stay with your brother and Bofur for me please.” He brushed a strand of stray hair back from Bofur’s face. “They’ve had a rough day.” 

He smiled up at the brunette before standing and pulling him into a gentle hug, “Sorry for traumatising you earlier.” He pushed Kili into the seat he had just vacated, and bent to whisper in his ear making it look like he was fussing over the messy hair, “Although I think you made the most of the opportunity that presented itself after yes?” he tugged lightly on the concealed braid, “Make sure no one disturbs them please, I promised I’d watch over them but I have kept Dwalin and Nori waiting for my lessons.” He winked at Kili who blushed lightly before shooing the hobbit away.

Deciding to take Bilbo’s advice to heart he glared at the gather dwarves, “What are you all staring at? They aren’t a circus show!”

%

Bilbo’s lesson didn’t go as well as his previous one. His mind kept darting back to Bofur’s face as he remembered his past. He fell to his knees as the glazed look in the dwarf’s eyes as he talked about just letting himself die came back to him.

Nori exclaimed loudly and dropped the dagger he’d been using to demonstrate some moves, “Bilbo!” 

His shout alert Dwalin and Bifur who had been sparring and the two dwarves rushed to the hobbit’s side. 

Dwalin wrapped the shaking hobbit in his arms as he frowned at Nori. 

“I didn’t do anything!” snapped the red haired dwarf, “He wasn’t paying full attention and then he suddenly got a massive look of grief and…” Nori trailed off and looked sadly down at Bilbo, “Whose memories upset you so badly my friend?”

Bilbo was clinging to Dwalin, his face pale. “Bofur’s,” he croaked, “I...he’s always so cheerful and always looks on the bright side, even when he’d first met me. Too hear that he…” Bilbo snapped his mouth shut and glared at Nori. 

Nori in return merely shut his eyes in pain. He had known his friend hadn’t coped well but Bilbo’s reaction confirmed his suspicions. “Tell me he didn’t!” He pleaded ignoring Bifur’s supporting hand on his shoulder and Dwalin’s pained-confused expression.

“Passivity Nori,” gasped Bilbo, “Passivity.” He swallowed, “If Fi hadn’t been there for him today…”

Dwalin sat heavily on the ground beside the kneeling hobbit, followed closely by Nori and Bifur. “We are a right fucked up bunch,” he hissed.

Bilbo let out a watery chuckle, “So that’s why I fit in so well.”

Nori looked at him sharply and stood to leave, but Bilbo shot out a hand to snag both Bifur’s and his wrists. “Stay. Fili knows bits and Dwalin knows bits. You might as well hear it.”

Nori sank back to the ground and chose to rest a hand on his friend’s knee in silent support. He was about to hear something that would clear up what had been puzzling him about the hobbit for a while. He straightened suddenly and glanced at Dwalin. “Bilbo,” he cautioned.

Bilbo followed his gaze, “I won’t make that assumption again Nori. If this goes belly up you do have permission to tell me ‘I told you so’ after you have attempted to put me together again.” 

Nori nodded, “Fine. Tell us.”

Bilbo took a deep breath. “You know about the orc slayer I presume Bifur?” When he received a nod he sighed in relief, “Good I really don’t want to go through that…wait you only know I was got by one?” Another nod. “Bullocks. Can you ask Dwalin later?” Bifur smiled softly at him. “Thank you Bifur. Maybe I should start at the beginning and I’ll know if Nori or myself was right. My father was Bungo Baggins and I am proud of that fact. I am more proud that my mother was Belladonna Took!”

Dwalin stiffened, starting to pull away before he realised that this was Bilbo. He sighed and shuffled closer sliding his arm around the hobbit’s waist to rest a hand on his hip.  


Bilbo had frozen when Dwalin moved before throwing a sad smirk at Nori when the warrior merely wrapped an arm around him. Nori didn’t hold a grudge and merely rolled his eyes. 

Bilbo nodded, “Yes and she was a complete nutcase. A hobbit that loved travelling, lived for adventure, could barely bake and was a member of the Guild of Taungit. A hobbit with a tattoo and braids, proper braids not just a plait. She wore a broach of cut garnet, inlaid with silver and set upon paladinium. Nori you probably recognised the symbol when I showed you it as you would have seen my mother’s work. Anyway back to what I am trying to avoid telling you. My grandmother Baggins was a fiendishly clever healer and we relied heavily on her to treat illnesses with in the Shire. She passed only months before the time we know as the Fell Winter. The Shire mourned for she was respected in all areas, the funeral was full of Tooks and Bagginses and Proudfoots and nearly every family I can recall.

Bilbo gasped a breath, the pain still cutting deeply over thirty years later. "Her death was a symbol of what was to come. The winter swept in with evil on the wind. Within days we were cut off and temperatures plummeted. We shivered by the hearth barely daring to leave the fires to sleep. Those of us with larger homes opened them up to less well-off folk. That was when the illness started. It was fairly placid at first. Gentle coughing and a smaller hunger. It soon proved to be deadly and with us all packed into only a few homes spread like a wild fire. I watched friends and relatives wither away in front of me, delirious in the fires that rage through their veins, even our coping mechanism only slowed the agonising death by a few days. I watched my youngest cousin refuse food and drink, knowing at the age of five that it would make the pain stop faster. It took aunts, uncles and cousins from me and yet seemed to leave father, mother and myself untouched physically. By the time the disease had seemingly ran out of life none of the hobbits had any of our body reserves yet. The young who had survived so far had it worse, we were not yet old enough to have started to lay down layers of fat to see us through hardships.”

Bilbo paused remembering the gaunt face that had stared back at him from the mirror for nearly six months after the winter had ended. “Mother took to hunting. Even after we had heard there were wolves stalking the borders she would go out in a futile attempt to bring us something, anything to eat. Somehow I kept my strength longer than the rest of the young in Hobbiton, I hadn’t held on to much, but by that point we had all transferred to the town hall and one night mother hadn’t returned and the howls were sending shivers down all our spines. Father, the mayor, Madame Coltsfoot and Bounder Trishle were all still out and there were few adults who would listen to my concerns. I felt feverish and I stumbled out into the night in my trousers and shirt sleeves. The air was bitter and I started shivering almost immediately. I could hear wolves fighting in the distance and for some reason I thought I had best see what was the reason for their ruckus. All thoughts of my mother seemed to slip away as I walked through the knee deep snow. Suddenly they loomed out of the shadows. Two mangy wolves, fighting over a body. Trails of red painted the snow. I snapped, caring little for myself I started to fling rock after rock at them. Someone told me latter I was cursing them using the old curses of our people. Words that hadn’t been spoken out loud in generations. I somehow managed to carry the body back to the town hall. As I laid it down gasps sprung up around me.” 

He frowned as he remembered the strange detachment he had felt, barely able to feel his limbs and everything sounding like it was underwater, “I rearranged the body as if she were sleeping. I even started to brush its curls, taking care not to pull out the intricate braids woven through it. Then I heard someone say the body was Belladonna, and in the instant before the fever swept through my veins I can remember thinking that they couldn’t be right because Belladonna was my mother, and my mother had promised she would come home that night. I can remember laughing wildly at them, screaming that they were liars. That in the eighteen years of my life Belladonna had never broken a promise to me. Someone grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to look at the body. It suddenly hit me that my mother was dead and the fire rushed over me.” 

Nori’s grip on Bilbo’s knee and Bifur’s hand was so tight that his knuckles gleamed white, silent tears tracking down his cheeks as he heard how the most feared member of the thieves’ world was taken down by winter and wolves. Bifur barely noticed the grip engrossed as he was in the emotions that shone in the hobbit’s startling eyes. He knew there was more than what they were being told, vaguely thinking that Bilbo was still trying to protect them. Dwalin couldn’t think. He could remember Bilbo mentioning his parents at the human ruins, but then his voice had been calm and now it was laced with pain as he recounted how he saw his mother torn apart. When it hit him his hobbit had only been eighteen he wrapped his other arm around the smaller male, curling his fingers into the material of his shirt. 

Bilbo swallowed back emotions, forcing his voice to go flat, “They moved me back to Bag End. Apparently in my delirium I had become a danger to other hobbits, not to mention I could be infectious. Only my father stayed with me. I fought the illness for three full weeks and it reduced me to nothing more than skin and bones. Every day the delirium pulled me further under, further away from reality and life. I almost gave up the fight and let myself go, I might have if my father hadn’t stumbled through our front door covered in blood and holding my mother’s sword. I heard him fall and somehow dragged myself out of bed to his side. He hadn’t moved and I think I may have shook him attempting to wake him. When he didn’t respond I rolled him over. They…” Bilbo’s voice broke and he swallowed several times, “My screams brought the Gaffer and Mistress Coltsfoot running. I…he wasn’t dead but he died in my arms seconds before the neighbours reached us. They took his eyes. That probably wasn’t what killed him, but it was all I noticed. My father had eyes like the brightest gems you can imagine, he missed nothing either and all I can remember of his injuries is that they took his eyes. I broke three of the Gaffer’s ribs when they tried to make me let go of him.” 

Bilbo’s voice became flat and cold, “He’d killed an orc captain that had gone after Betty Proudfoot. Even as injured as he was he somehow found his way back to me to protect me. Gandalf arrived with the thaw and the rangers that very morning. I sat on the roof of Bag End and watched them slaughter the bastards that had taken my family from me. I had missed saying farewell to my mother, but I stood by the side of the pyre they burnt my father on until the ashes were cold. Somehow in my grief and rage I broke through the illness. I shut myself off after that, for nearly two years I refused to visitor have visitors. The Gaffer made sure I ate and Mistress Coltsfoot refused to listen to me and let me wallow in my grief.” 

Bilbo closed his eyes as he leant heavily against Dwalin’s side. “There have been occurrences since then. We’ve never had a winter like that, but thirteen years after that winter was when I got the scars on my back. Fifteen years after that winter, a platoon of five rangers were torn apart limb from limb by a forest troll. We heard their screams for moments during my of age celebrations. Year in year out we have had Tooks disappearing. Travellers have been attacked on the road to Bree and I have had the misfortune of find several of their corpses. I stopped traveling to Bree ten years ago simply because I couldn’t take it anymore. The last one I had found was also missing her eyes, she was a ranger and the thought that someone as strong as her could be taken down.” Bilbo shivered. 

They sat in the dark for several long moments, not entirely sure Bilbo had finished talking. Bifur made a sudden movement and was suddenly clasping Bilbo’s hands with both of his, having wrenched a hand free from Nori to do so. “Arkul leib nurv miz meri,” he growled. He pointed at Nori, “Shmekhi!” Then to Dwalin, “Khuzi!” He flattened his hand to his breast, “Drakh!” Bifur ignored the swat Nori aimed at his head. “Leibz arkaul!” he made a sweeping gesture. 

Bilbo stared at the dwarf for several long moments wondering if he had heard right. Deciding that his De KhuzdTunng wasn’t that rusty he flung his arms around Bifur’s neck. Squeezing the dwarf tightly for several long moments before releasing him to swat the back of his head gently. “You are no daemon Bifur, you are goddaz miz meri!”

Nori stared at Bilbo for several long moments, “Leib?” he croaked. 

Bilbo smiled at him. “Ai, Khazdul vel De KhuzdTunng!”

Dwalin chuckled dryly at the break in tension Bifur had unthinkingly created, “Ai,” he agreed dropping a kiss to Bilbo’s head and looking straight at Nori as he pulled Bifur into his arms as well. He raised his spare arm and Nori hesitated only momentarily before sliding into it and wrapping his arms around Bifur and Bilbo. Dwalin chuckled again, having never thought Nori and he would ever be at this relaxed around each other. He hummed slightly, as they knelt in the cool air.

Bilbo broke the silence. “We should probably turn in,” he muttered not really wanting to break the peace that seemed to settle.

Nori groaned and buried his nose in Bilbo’s curls, “You are right but I don’t have control of my emotions yet.”

%

Most of the company had retreated to their rooms by the time the quartet returned to the communal area. Bilbo took one look at the still curled up Bofur and Fili, allowing his eyes to slide onto the uncomfortable position Kili and Ori had ended up in before he tutted. Turning efficient he managed to get Kili and Ori onto the floor with Bofur and Fili, carefully tucking a blanket around the pairs when he was finished. Nori took one look at his friend’s face and grabbing a blanket and cushion of the settee flopped down beside the miner, Bifur following him without a second thought. Bilbo watched from the circle of Dwalin’s arms as the two settled themselves so they were both touching Bofur. Eyes still glued to the six on the floor Dwalin pulled Bilbo back until they were sitting on one of the settees. They watched as Kili and Ori shifted so they were touching Fili and Ori’s arm stretched over Fili’s head to tangle in his brother’s hair. 

Dwalin manoeuvred them so they were lying down and somehow managed to pull someone’s random cloak over them. “I know you wouldn’t be able to sleep in the bedroom miz berr, but rest now and I will stand watch.”

Bilbo huffed slightly, but allowed himself to relax slightly as Dwalin’s arms tightened around his middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khazdul/De KhuzdTunng translations to English.
> 
> Morn venaunag do uz allaz= death comes to us all.  
> Arkul leib nurv miz meri = protector you need my friend.  
> Shemekhi = assassin.  
> Khuzi = warrior.  
> Drakh = daemon.  
> Leibz arkaul = your protectors.  
> Goddaz = godly/angelic/heavenly being.  
> Vel = and.  
> Miz berr = My treasure.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the song (1) is owned by Enya it is called May it Be.


	44. Chapter 45 - People Like Us.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf is Forgiven.

_Chapter Forty Five – People Like Us. ___

Bofur was the first to wake. He groaned softly and attempted to raise a hand to scrub at his face. When he didn’t manage with his left hand he was sleepily confused but attempted to do so with his right. When that failed to work his sleep addled mind started to panic slightly, his breathing increased up until his senses informed him that he was in the middle of a pile of bodies. When his brain caught onto why he couldn’t move his hands Bofur relaxed. He didn’t question why he was in the middle of a dwarven hug pile merely smiled and snuggled further into the heat. From the light in the communal area it was barely dawn and he wasn’t one to turn down extra sleep. He shifted away from the body on his right as one of the handles of the blades it wore dug into his spine. That alone clued him into the body being that of Nori, he smiled softly as he realised his friend cared enough to sleep on the floor with him instead of on the soft beds they had been provided with. His shifting brought him closer to the body on his right and he found himself staring at a rather detailed undershirt. The colour told him it was Fili and he was surprised the young prince had stayed with him. 

As he drifted between sleeping and waking he thought back on the blonde dwarf’s words from the previous afternoon. The Durin had been right, he felt better for having shared his past. Not because it had helped talking about it, but because with Fili being the one to know he felt safer, more protected. He didn’t ponder it, he knew that despite it being Bofur’s duty to be the one doing the protecting if it came to it, it would be the prince who would defend and protect him. He hummed slightly and squeezed the hand that held his lightly. 

When he next awoke Bofur realised he was still the only member of the company who had greeted the day. He also realised the morning was significantly progressed from the last time he was conscious and the dwarven hug pile he was involved in included more than Nori and Fili. He could hear his cousin’s soft snores from beyond Nori and smiled as he thought Bifur may finally have found someone who may understand some of what he had gone through. A hand on his hip made him frown and he tilted his head to look behind the blonde prince of Durin. He felt no little surprise when he realised Kili and Ori lay beyond. It was Kili’s hand on his hip and Ori had an arm wrapped around the brunette and the other arm was stretched over Bofur’s head to reach Nori. His smile grew as he realised that through Nori’s friendship he had Ori on side as well. His next thought had him crinkling his nose, apparently he had Kili’s protection as well. Resisting the urge to giggle, because really how many miners-come-toymakers could claim they had the protection of two of the line of Durin? Bofur set about trying to free his hands as his body’s needs made themselves known to him. 

When he was free Bofur pushed wobbly to his feet and wrinkled his nose at how grainy his skin felt. His eyes were slightly itchy from the tears he had shed and he headed with determination to one of the bathing rooms. He paused at the door and smiled softly back at the sleeping dwarves he had left. The group had closed the gap he had left and Fili was now sleeping with an arm flung over Nori’s waist, as the thief had latched onto Kili’s hand.

Chuckling Bofur pushed through the bathing room door and once it had snicked to a close behind him wasted little time in turning on the taps and stripping down. His clothing was still relatively clean so he set it to one side tidily as he systematically started to unravel is braids. He glowered once at the floor length mirror before resolutely turned his back on it so he didn’t have to examine his scars. While he was not ashamed of them the emotions were now too raw beneath his skin for him to look at them for long. He also found it quite disturbing to watch himself as he bathed. As he submerged himself beneath the deliciously warm water he found himself wishing he’d hung a drying sheet over the damn thing.

When he re-emerged he was panting for air slightly but feeling much happier. He started to whistle as he rummaged through the soaps they had been given by the elves. He chuckled over a few of the scented ones. Why anyone would want to make themselves smell like lilies or roses was beyond him. There were a few he didn’t recognise. What was Ylang-ylang or Jojoba? Huffing he pushed them all to one side wishing he could find some simple tar soap. There was nothing wrong with a bit of tar soap, fair enough it was slightly gritty, but it got you clean and didn’t make you smell like a flower or an herbalist’s. He grinned widely, letting out a whoop of triumph as he found a bottle of soap and a matching bottle of oil labelled simply 'pine'. A little wriggle-dance later he uncorked the soap, setting the oil aside for his hair and beard later, his grin widened as the rich, fresh scent filled the room. 

Bilbo turned over and buried his face into Dwalin’s chest. He was happy Bofur was in a better mood today, but if the dwarf didn’t stop whistling that obnoxiously cheerful tune he was going to hurt someone. Muscled arms settled around his body holding him in place. “Morning.” He raised his head to meet Dwalin’s gaze and instead of replying verbally merely pressed their lips together in a kiss. 

“Oh Mahal! Not again!” Kili’s voice broke over the room and Bilbo laughed so hard he rolled off the sofa he was sharing with the warrior dwarf. 

A slamming of a door indicated someone was up to investigate the bump just made. “What happened? Is everyone okay? Why are you all lying on the floor? Dwalin why are you lying on the seat thingy? Did anyone go to bed last night?”

Another door opened, “Aye your highness we did and we would still be abed if you weren’t becoming more and more high pitched as you went on.”

Bifur let out a snort of laughter as Nori groaned and rolled over to hide his face in the toymaker’s chest. Ori rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling as Kili whined and flopped over his chest. 

“I don’t know brother, you missed out on a great cuddle party last night.” Ori’s voice was bored, but he was fighting to stay calm. He might have stated that nothing would tear him from Kili, but Thorin was his king. Dori didn’t have as much say but he was head of the Ri family. “Bilbo do stop laughing.”

Bilbo rolled over so he could see the dwarves still cuddled on the floor. “Sorry Master Oakenshield didn’t help with the giggles. Morning Bombur.” This was directed at the red haired dwarf who had just stuck his head out of the door of his room. “Anyway, I apologise for having a good time Ori.”

He tilted his head and smiled as he took in the way the bookish dwarf was unconsciously running his fingers through Kili’s hair and tracing the braid. “I wish I was your age again,” he grumbled before remembering himself, “Or what would equate to my being your age.”

Before anyone could comment Bilbo pushed to his feet, yawned and stretched. His back cracked and he winced, “I’m so getting to old for this,” he muttered under his breath, before letting out a startled laugh as Dwalin pulled him back against his chest. “Morning gorgeous did you want something?”

Dwalin smiled softly down at the hobbit he had wrapped in his arms and used two fingers to tip the smaller male’s head back. “Aye! You,” he rumbled placing a chaste kiss on his One’s lips. He released the hobbit from his arms and grabbed a hand, “Take a walk with me?”

“How can I say no?” Bilbo merely curled into his side and they wandered out of the communal area and into the gardens of Rivendell. 

Thorin blinked after them, “What just happened?”

Gloin and Oin stumbled from their shared rooms. “What just happened where?” grumbled the white haired healer as Gloin hid a massive yawn in the crook of his elbow. 

“Well I would assume my brother and his One went for a walk to remove themselves from the stupidity that seems to be contagious this morning.” The remaining company jumped as Balin appeared at the kitchen door. The white haired diplomat was still in his nightshirt and rolled his eyes at Thorin’s scandalised gasp. “Shut ye mouth laddie ye’ll catch flies.” He turned to the rest of the company, smiling softly as his sharp eyes took in Ori and Kili’s new braids, “Who wants omelettes?” when he received ten affirmatives he chuckled and turned back into the kitchen.

Bombur summed up the company’s thoughts. “Did anyone know Master Balin could cook?”

Fili opened his mouth to reply but his attention was caught by the opening of one of the bathing room doors. He swallowed hard as Bofur slipped out of the steamy interior and crept along the wall behind the still shocked dwarves. Swallowing hard Fili tried to tear his eyes away from the long hair hanging damply down the miner’s back. He knew it was a lost cause when the breeze coming through one of the openings caught the ends and curled them slightly. “Yeah he can cook, has been able to for a long time, excuse me,” he muttered. Ignoring Kili’s giggles and the surprised eyebrow of his uncle he wandered over to the exit Bofur had escaped from. 

Sitting in the bright sunlight in the gardens of the last Homely House Bofur had to wonder if his past had truly been a nightmare his overwrought imagination had come up with. He crossed his legs and felt one of the scars pull, wrinkling his nose he scolded himself for being fanciful. Without further ado he slipped his comb from the inside pocket of his jerkin and set about methodically oiling and combing his hair and beard. He started to hum as he did so, the feeling of protection he’d felt from Fili coming back to him. He placed the comb between his teeth and quickly separated his hair. He easily worked his family braid into strands on the left of his head before setting down to the serious task of replacing his two usual braids. They took a little bit more concentration as he had to get the tension in the stands just right to allow them their gravity defining uniqueness.

Fili had watched with fascination as Bofur worked with the weighty mass of his hair. He’d never realised just how long the miner’s hair was as it had always been braided and even as he watched the miner replacing those braids could barely comprehend that much hair fitting into only two braids. He cleared his throat and stepped forward barely realising he had moved, his mouth speaking without his permission, “How do you get them to curl like that?” 

Bofur jumped slightly and swivelled to see who had snuck up on him. He relaxed slightly, spitting the comb from his mouth and tying off the bottom of the first braid he had completed as he eyed the blushing blonde over. “Family secret Mister Fili.”

Blue eyes narrowed as Fili took in his form of address, “It’s just Fili, Bofur.” He narrowed his eyes, “Unless you want me to go back to calling you Master Bofur?”

“Now lad no need to take on so.” Bofur chuckled and shifted over so there was space beside him. He patted the low wall as indication for Fili to sit. “You shortened it even further yesterday didn’t you?” he asked as he wrinkled his nose to try and remember. 

Fili sat down heavily with a guilty expression. “Yes.” He winced at how sharp he sounded and chewed his lip wondering if he should apologise. A gentle hand on his knee made him flick his eyes to the other dwarf’s face. 

“At risk of repeating meself. Don’t take on so.” Bofur chuckled and blew at a strand of hair that was tickling his nose. “I don’t mind getting a nickname from you.” He blushed slightly, “Although I can understand that you mightn’t want to call me it when anyone can hear or at all what with my being only a miner and you being a prince.”

Fili growled. “You are doing it again.”

Bofur blinked, confused, “Doing what again?”

“Putting yourself down.” Fili closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I don’t know why you do that.” He locked eyes with Bofur his own embarrassment forgotten, “I told you yesterday Bo and at risk of repeating myself you are my friend. I care about you stubborn dwarf.” He looked away suddenly embarrassed, “So how do you make them curl?”

Bofur laughed delightedly. “Are you sure you aren’t one of my Bom’s kids? You’re as stubborn as one.” Fili turned with an outraged declaration on the tip of his tongue but froze as he realised the miner was giving him an approving once over. The normally be-hatted dwarf smirked, “You sure are prettier though.”

“Prettier?” Fili knew he was shrieking, but was flabbergasted at the miner’s words.

There was a sparkle of mischief in Bofur’s eyes as he gave up on the braid he’d been attempting to do for quarter of a bell. “Oh eye, much prettier. What with your golden hair and blue eyes and pouty lips. Oh yes, your soft skin and…Fili!”

Fili had growled and tackled the miner from the bench. “You absolute bastard Bo,” he grinned. “I am so going to get you back for that!” When Bofur merely raised an eyebrow in challenge Fili grinned viciously. “Oh yes so getting revenge.” He moved his fingers to the other dwarf’s ribs as he was talking. 

“Oh Mahal,” choked out Bofur attempting to get away from the grinning blond above him, “Anything but that.” 

“Surrender?” Fili quipped even as Bofur burst into laughter and started to try and wriggle away from his fingers. 

“Never!” Bofur’s declaration was somewhat spoilt by his voice wavering in the middle and Fili laughed as he worked his fingers under the miner’s shirt to be able to reach skin.

“What do you think you are doing?” A voice echoed around the terrace and so like Thorin’s was it that the two sprung apart faster than they had ever moved.

“We were just…”

“He was being…”

Began together, trailing off as they took in a laughing dwarf. “KILI!” 

Hearing the battle cry in his brother’s voice the brunette took off at a run. Bofur grabbed the blonde prince’s hand before he could chase his younger brother. “Thank ye.”

Confused Fili stopped straining after Kili and turned confused eyes on the miner. “Thank me for what?”

“For caring about me. For not caring about our differences in rank. For being you.” Bofur raised a hand and tucked a strand of the blonde hair behind Fili’s ear before trailing his fingers down the prince’s cheek. “You are special Fili.” He stepped closed, heedless of the eyes of his face as he traced the strong features in front of him. “The only friend I have ever had before was Nori. Thank you for being my friend.” He stepped back and walked away from a shocked blonde, “Whoever is your One back in Ered Luin is one lucky dwarf.”

Fili stared stock still staring at the spot Bofur had once stood. Slowly the dwarf’s words sunk in and he snapped his head to the communal terrace. Bofur thought he had a One back at home. He had thought Fili had originally only approached him for help gaining his one and become friends with him that way. “Fuck!”

The day passed slowly for the company, but after the dramas of previous ones it was a welcome relief. Fili storming back in after Bofur had been the biggest excitement of the day, but the company were destined never to find out what had the blond Durin in a snit as he had spotted Bofur curled up at Bombur’s feet and sank next to Ori grumbling under his breath.

Dwalin returned with rose cheeks and a wide smile about three hours before Bilbo and the warrior dwarf had dived into conversation with his brother almost immediately.

Thorin had retreated back to his reading, only emerging when Fili and finally Kili returned. 

Bilbo as the last of the company back to the communal area and he created a huge stir as he was dragging the wizard and carrying a basket full of food. 

The company complete once more laughter and jokes filled the air, even the wizard being forgiven his trespasses in the joyous, peaceful atmosphere that hung over them all. The moon hung full, visible through the wrought wood when Bilbo staggered to his feet, a goblet of elven wine in his hands. 

“I have an announcement to make.” Thirteen pairs of eyes flew to him even as he dragged Dwalin up to stand next to him. Bilbo pressed a small kiss to the dwarf’s lips before continuing. “We have an announcement to make.” 

Gandalf grinned widely as he figured out where this was going and leant forward, elbows on his knees. His impatience was noticed and everyone’s gaze sharpened. 

“Now I don’t know how dwarves do this, but this is the hobbits’ way. More importantly this is the Tooks’ way. I Bilbo Baggins claim Dwalin son of Fenwin to be my heart bonded. Any vengeances of his I take on myself. Any grievances against him, become grievances against me.”

He turned in Dwalin’s arms and beamed up at the dwarf. “He unfortunately took all the fun I could have had as a Took courting away as he somehow decided that I was his One.”

His smile became one of pure happiness. “I can’t say I am upset about that development. I am disappointed I didn’t get to kidnap him though I suppose I can save that for when we bond.”

Gandalf was the first to raise his glass in a toast. When the company followed suit Dwalin blushed and buried his face in Bilbo’s curls. Bilbo merely smiled. 

“Thank you. Now where was I?” He raised his own glass and nudged Dwalin who copied his stance.

They smiled as they looked at the company, “To people like us.”


	45. Chapter 46 - Of Paupers and Princes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An elf, a wizard, two swords, the twins and three dwarves.

_Chapter Forty Six – Of Paupers and Princes. ___

The morning dawned bright and fair, the cheerful bird song awakening the company slowly. Moods were high as they all re-congregated in the communal area. There was a happy humming sounding from the kitchen, and Bofur being the curious dwarf he was, crept forward to find out who had joined Bilbo in cooking this time.

He stopped short at the door, mouth hanging open in the most unflattering way. Bilbo wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the kitchen, instead the blonde Durin was working away happily. Bofur swallowed hard as he finally convinced his mouth to shut. The prince made a stunning picture, and Bofur wondered just who his One was back at Ered Luin, and if they knew how lucky they were. He had teased Fíli for his looks the previous day, but he now took a moment to truly look at his friend. Golden hair was mused, braid slightly frayed having not been re-done from the night. His cheeks were rosy from the heat in the kitchen, and his tanned skin seemed to glow. Bofur’s mouth felt dry as he realised there was so much more skin on show than normal. The heir of Durin was dressed in naught but his night shirt (whose sleeves were rolled back to his elbows). The lad had the star of Durin on his left arm, but it was the delicately worked scrolling lines flowing down his right leg that caught Bofur’s eye. The design and craftsmanship were clearly dwarven, but like the blonde himself, held a hint of the exotic. 

Giving himself a shake, Bofur finally managed to stop staring and stepped into the kitchen fully. “Morning Fíli,” he greeted, before clearing his throat. “What're ya doin’?”

Fíli jumped slightly and stopped mid-step to glare at the dwarf who had startled him. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably when he realised it was Bofur, before gracing the miner with a dazzling smile. “Making breakfast Bo,” he threw his friend a wink. “Is everyone up already?”

Bofur blinked, unable to find words for a moment. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, before his brain finally processed the question he had just been asked. “Ah, no, not everyone is up yet, at least I don’t think they are. Master Dwalin and Bilbo weren’t in the communal area, and your brother’s door is still firmly shut.” He shook his head slightly, mentally berating himself. He was acting like an idiot, and if he didn’t get a grip he’d likely lose Fíli's friendship. “Sorry I mus’ still be a bit sleepy.” He peered closely at what the blonde was doing. “What are you making?”

Fíli grinned again. He might not know how to tell Bofur that he was the dwarf that he wanted, but at this moment in time he had the miner’s undivided attention, that would do for now. “Eggy breads,” he stated simply.

“What?” Bofur’s confusion shone in that one word, and Fíli let out a delighted laugh.

Abandoning what he was doing momentarily, he dragged Bofur around to his side of the table. “Eggy bread,” he repeated. “Look, I’ll show you.” He drew the dish of egg and milk mix closer and grabbed a fresh slice of bread. “Here, all you do is soak the bread in the egg mix, then cook it in a frying pan.” Bofur’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Fíli, and the blonde found himself ducking his head in embarrassment. “What?”

Work-worn fingers tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and Fíli forced himself to hold still, even while keeping his eyes on the table top. Strong fingers tucked themselves under his chin, and he found himself being made to meet Bofur’s eyes.

“I didn’ mean t’ make ye uncomfortable, Fíli.” The miner’s voice was quiet, and Fíli found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bofur’s. The older dwarf used his free hand to tuck the last few escaping strands behind his ear, then rested it on Fíli's cheek. The blonde could feel himself blushing, but Bofur made no move to back away. “I was just admiring how brilliant blue your eyes are. I know you have a One back in Ered Luin, but I can appreciate beauty when I see it.”

Fíli swallowed around the lump in his throat, desperate to form words, because this was a perfect chance to tell Bofur he didn’t have a One at Ered Luin, but the miner kept talking before he could. “I meant what I said yesterday. Every word of it. I shouldn’t have called you pretty though, that was an insult to your looks. Your hair is like molten gold, and your eyes like sapphires.” He ran a thumb over Fíli's lower lip as it trembled, “Forgive me for saying this, but you have a mouth made for kissing. I can’t tear my eyes away when you talk, I have never been able to. Your skin looks so soft, and seems to glow with the energy and passion you have. You are special. You have a heart big enough to love all of your people, and you came on this mad journey so that they could have a home, so that your mother and uncles could see the place they grew up in again. You don’t judge people on their rank, or how they look, you judge them on their actions. The fact you try not to let first impressions sway you shows just what a good soul you are. Don’t change for them Fíli. If this dwarf is worthy of you, they will never want you to change. They will love you for everything you are, not what they think you should be.”

Fíli couldn’t help the distressed noise he let slip as Bofur dropped his hands and stepped back. He frowned as he saw the expressive grey eyes glisten with tears, “I’m sorry Fíli. I shouldn’t have…I have to go!”

Fíli caught him before he managed to make it out the door, and pulled him into a rib crushing hug. He shook as he curled his hands into the back of Bofur’s jumper, and finally Bofur relaxed against him. Burying his nose into the crook of the miner’s neck, Fíli began to talk. “I don’t have a One in Ered Luin, Bo. I came to you to ask about toy making because it is true that I wanted to impress somebody, and at the time, I couldn’t think of a better way to do it.” 

He whimpered softly as strong arms settled around his waist as Bofur finally returned the hug. “The dwarf I have set my eyes on is so special, and he doesn’t even know it. He keeps putting himself down, and I hate that he does that. He has survived so much, and yet can still greet people with an easy smile and a warm word. He spent his time teaching someone who was completely incapable when he could have been doing something better with his time. He is blind to his own strengths, to his own beauty.” 

Bofur’s heat was soaking through his thin night shirt where his hands rested on his lower back, and Fíli was suddenly aware of just what he was wearing. He muffled his groan in Bofur’s neck, cursing the fates momentarily before finding his thread of thought again. “Bo, I couldn’t have found my One at Ered Luin, because I never met him there. I met him when a cheerful miner and his family joined the quest to take back Erebor.”

Bofur froze as Fíli's words finally worked their way into his brain. “What?” he croaked. “Fíli?”

Fíli raised his head, and Bofur realised that there was merely inches between their lips. He stared into eyes of the most brilliant blue as a warm hand caressed the side of his face. “My One is you, Bofur. I hadn’t dared hope you felt anything more than friendship for me, and until yesterday, I didn’t truly think I stood a chance.”

“Why on Arda would you think you didn’t stand a chance with me, Fíli?” Bofur’s eyes traced across Fíli's face as he leant back to better look at the blonde.

Fíli smiled wryly. “I didn’t think someone like you would be free.” He shrugged, “You have seen me at my worst, and I didn’t think that would help either.”

Bofur growled, “And ye haven’t seen me break down? Ye didn’t sit beside me as I cried meself to sleep? Ye didn’t hold me together, and bring me back when I got lost in memories? If anyone didn’t stand a chance, it would be me. Not you Fíli, most definitely not you. I keep telling you that whoever was your One was a lucky dwarf.” He paused, and Fíli swallowed at the emotions flickering in the depths of the miner’s eyes, “I was right as well,” Bofur’s voice became quiet, “I am possibly the luckiest dwarf that has lived.” 

Fíli wasn’t given a chance to answer, as warm lips were on his, and his knees almost went out from underneath him.

%

Gandalf finally remembered just why he had joined the company the previous night, and upon seeing the kitchen door closed, stepped closer to Thorin. He waited until he was waved down before he sat next to the dwarf, and raised an eyebrow at the other’s reading material. He couldn’t figure out where this obsession with elves had come from, but anything that made his life easier was welcome.

“Thorin,” he started, drawing the dwarf’s eyes to him. “You were invited to take brunch with Elrond and his sons today if you wanted to go. He did say the whole company was welcome if they want to go.”

Thorin nodded, “I take it that is what you actually came here for yesterday?” When he got a nod in response, he chuckled softly, “As much as I would love to inflict the Company on Lord Elrond, I do not think it would be fair. Perhaps I could go with just a few of them?” He phrased the last as a question, wanting the wizard’s opinion.

“That might be a better idea, I can’t see much getting discussed if fifteen of us swarmed Elrond’s breakfast room.”

Thorin laughed quietly again. “That is true. Especially if his sons are anything like my nephews.” He thought for a moment, “I think perhaps it would be best if I took Balin and Dori. Balin was a diplomat before any of this, so I think he can stop me enjoying the taste of my own feet the way I did at Bag End. Dori has perfect manners and is used to hearing the subtle context of conversations.”

Gandalf nodded, “Do you want to let them know, and I will come and collect you all in one bell?”

Thorin nodded, “Of course, thank you for taking us there.”

%

Dori took one look at the elven twins and repressed a groan. The gleam in their eyes reminded him far too much of Nori when his younger brother was up to mischief in his youth. He shot Thorin a quick look and then drew the elven brothers into a discussion, leaving Thorin and Balin to deal with the elf lord.

Thorin managed to bring the conversation around to weapons, and upon finding out that Elrond could read most written runes, presented the weapon he had found in the troll’s horde. The elf confirmed it was not of troll-make, and studied it for a while before speaking. 

“This is an old sword. A very old sword.” Thorin could see an appreciative gleam in the elf’s eyes, and wondered what it was about. He didn’t have long to wait. “These were made by my kin, the High Elves of the West. Forged in Gondolin for the Goblin-wars. They must have come from a dragon’s horde, or a goblin’s plunder, as they were what destroyed that city many ages ago. The runes on your blade, Master Oakenshield, name it Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver, in the ancient tongue of Gondolin. It was a famous blade. May it serve you well.” 

The elf sighed, and Thorin looked up from where he had been examining his blade with greater interest. Elrond seemed to read his unspoken question, “I was just mourning that its brother was still lost. Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, blade of the king of Gondolin.”

Gandalf shifted guiltily, and placed his own blade on an empty chair. Thorin watched Elrond’s eyes widen, before the elf swallowed, and nodded. “Keep them well!”

Thorin nodded, “I will keep this sword in honour. May it cleave goblins once again.” He stopped for a moment and shared a silent conversation with Balin. “I have something to ask of you, my Lord Elrond, but I do not know where to start.”

“Perhaps you could tell me why a group of thirteen Dwarrows, a Halfling, and a wizard are travelling across Arda.”

“That I can do, my Lord Elrond.” Thorin paused, taking in Dori’s steadfast gaze, even as the steel-haired dwarf distracted the elf twins. Thorin nodded, and said one word. “Smaug!”

Both of Elrond’s eyebrows rose, even as he nodded. “Well, while I would have preferred you to have the backing of an army, I can understand stealth. What favour did you have to ask of me?”

Thorin reached into his inner pocket and placed the map onto the table. “I cannot read it, and I have been reliably informed that you can.”

Elrond reached for the parchment, but only picked it up after a nod from Thorin. The royal dwarf decided this elf was growing in his esteem. He watched as a fine line appeared between Elrond’s dark brows, and bit back a chuckle at the sight of such an elegant looking creature mouthing words. He sat up a bit straighter as Elrond began to talk, “The plain runes state that ‘five feet high the door, and three may walk abreast.’ There are moon runes beside them though, I can feel the magic in the parchment.” Grey eyes clashed with blue as the elf stared at the dwarf, “Would you be agreeable of bringing this map to me again tonight? I would stand a chance of deciphering what the other runes say then.”

Thorin nodded without consulting either the wizard of his fellow dwarves. “You have done me and mine great service already, if it would aid, then I will return with the map.”

Elrond smiled softly, “Then I will have one of my boys show you the way, I know the passageways of Imladris are impossible for any who have not lived here their whole lives.”

Thorin smiled back and rose gracefully to his feet, offering his hand to the elf lord. “I thank you for your time and hospitality, Lord Elrond. I will not impose longer, and we will take our leave of you.”

Dori and Balin pushed to their feet and stepped in behind Thorin, offering a bow to the elven lord. The twins pouted slightly at losing their source of information. Dori eyed them as he went to leave the room behind Thorin and Balin. “Master Elrond?” he began, drawing the elf’s attention to him. When grey eyes locked on him, he continued, “Your boys were interested in the history of my people, and I was wondering if they would want to come and spend some time with the Company. My brother is a scholar and very well read, while several of the older members can tell them what it was like in Erebor itself.”

Dori kept his eyes on Elrond even as his sons bounced like exited puppies in the peripheral of his vision. Elrond finally smiled and nodded, “Please take them now, I could do with the peace.”

Dori smiled, and found himself walking in-between the two tall elves. He sighed softly, he had to stop doing things like that.


	46. Chapter 47 - Map.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you have probably guessed Elrond gets to look at the map.

_Chapter Forty Seven – Map. ___

Dori forced the elven twins to sit when they finally got back to the area the dwarves were staying in. He rubbed his temples as he walked away from them, up until this point he hadn’t believed there was anyone in the world who could ask more questions than his baby brother. He’d just been proved wrong, so very wrong, and he was going to need a lot of tea to get through this. At least Ori paused for breath, occasionally. He glanced back when he reached the kitchen door, and couldn’t help but smile softly. Thorin had already joined the elves and appeared to be asking them questions. Dori chuckled as he pushed open the door, he supposed at least the elves would be distracted until he returned.

He blinked a few times at the sight that greeted him in the kitchen, before sighing softly. He cleared his throat, and smiled mischievously as Bofur and Fíli sprang apart as if they’d been scalded. “Don’t mind me, lads,” he began in a sing song voice, “I’m just going to make some tea.” He wandered passed them and allowed the door to shut behind him. Ignoring their stuttering and blushing, he calmly began making up a tea tray, handling the largest teapot with ease. By the time the kettle was boiled, the two dwarves behind him had stuttered into silence. He eyed them as he was filling the teapot. 

“I would suggest you are a bit more careful about where you have your little canoodling.” He balanced the tea tray carefully on one hand and walked back passed them, stopping only when he reached the door. “After all, as much as I admire Thorin as a leader, he is still a bit” he paused considering his words, “Unstable.” With that, he bumped open the door with his hip and left the kitchen without uttering another word. If he was whistling slightly as he returned to the elven twins, then that was no-one’s business but his own.

He set the tea tray down carefully, and folded his legs under him as he joined his crown prince and elves on the cushions on the floor. He calmly clasped his hands in his lap and offered the trio a peaceful smile. Thorin was listening eagerly to a tale one of the elves was telling him, and Dori doubted he had ever seen the dark haired dwarf’s face so open. Wonder shone in his blue eyes, and the normally stern mouth was curved in a soft smile. The elf telling the tale had leant forward slightly, his hands mapping out shapes as if his words alone couldn’t do the story justice. His dark hair shimmered slightly as he trembled with the passion of his tale and his grey eyes were fixed on Thorin’s. The elf not telling the story was watching the two interact, a smile on his pink lips and a slight flush on his cheeks. The grey eyes he shared with his brother gleamed with an emotion Dori couldn’t quite place. As he watched the trio, Dori felt a sense of peace well in his chest, and he relaxed slightly as he tuned out the story being told, and allowed his eyes to roam the room.

The kitchen door had remained closed after he had left, but he doubted the duo within were doing anything other than talking now. Bombur was eyeing the door with loathing, but making no indication he would be moving any time soon. If Dori was a fanciful type, he would have thought the rotund dwarf was trying to set the piece of wood on fire with his mind, so vicious was his glare. 

Lips twitching in a half smile, he allowed his eyes to fall on the next dwarf. Or in this case, pair of dwarves. His middle brother was sitting beside Bifur, they seemed peaceful, and Dori allowed himself another smile as Bifur merely batted Nori’s hand away half-heartedly when the red head tried to tame his wild hair. He couldn’t tell what they were actually doing, but, as long as his brother was happy, Dori found he couldn’t care. 

Ori and Kíli were next to them, well, slightly above them, curled up as they were in a single chair. Kíli was draped across Ori’s lap, his face hidden in the crook of his neck, while Ori’s nose was buried in Kíli's hair. The pair seemed to be deeply asleep. 

Glóin and Óin were missing, the fact the door to the room they shared was shut told Dori they hadn’t even risen yet. 

He counted heads again, noting that Master Baggins and Dwalin were also missing, but the doors to both their rooms were open (Dori wasn’t stupid, he rather doubted Dwalin had slept in his room since about the third night in) showing they had probably escaped the Company to wander around the halls of Rivendell.

Dori's eyes settled on the final dwarf in the room, and he allowed himself a moment to admire the way Balin’s worn velvet seemed to glow in the sunlight the white-haired dwarf had stretched himself out in. Dori smirked slightly. Balin tried to put forth a grandfatherly persona, and his pose would have been a perfect fit for it (legs crossed at the ankles and stretched out in front of him, pipe in his hand, creating a spiral of bluish smoke, with a book in his lap), if he hadn’t been perched on a railing and leaning back against a carved pillar.

Dori settled himself more comfortably on his cushion and fixed his eyes on the white haired diplomat. He could hear Thorin asking the elf a question, and understood that it was the other elf who actually replied, and yet he never once allowed his eyes to waver. He knew Balin could sense his eyes on him, and had to admit he was impressed that the other dwarf gave no indication of being watched. The smirk became full grown, with Thorin distracting the twins, Dori had all the time in the world. Balin would never outlast him, for he had raised Nori and Ori, so patience was a virtue he had a great deal of practice with, and for an old warrior like Balin, the feel of eyes settled on him would soon make him twitchy.

%

The light had changed to the long shadows of afternoon when Bilbo and Dwalin returned to their companions. Dwalin didn’t linger long, merely dropped a kiss onto Bilbo’s curls before returning to their room for a short nap, but Bilbo turned to join the rest of the Company, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Thorin was talking with elves, in fact, he seemed to be getting on great with them. That wasn’t what held his attention though. Nor was it Bombur glowering at the closed kitchen door. No, what caught his attention was Dori sitting on the floor, cold cup of tea beside him, staring at Balin. Balin, who was sitting on a railing, and who looked like he could crack any second.

Shaking himself free of his surprise, Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Thorin, who merely rolled his eyes in response before returning to his conversation with the elves. Bilbo gave a soft sigh, and entered his room, chuckling quietly. He closed the door behind him, and seeing Dwalin passed out on top of the covers, wrinkled his nose fondly. He stripped the dwarf of his heavy boots, dropping the offending items with a dull thump as he crossed to the spindly chair and shook out a soft woollen shawl. He covered Dwalin carefully with the lacy wool, then silently drew the gauzy drapes at the window. Satisfied he had done all he could to make his dwarf comfortable, Bilbo retreated to the chair and curled up on it, opening the book he’d borrowed to where he had left off reading it.

%

Dori was right, and Balin was the first to crack, though he would never admit it had been a close thing. By the time it happened, the white haired dwarf hadn’t turned a page in his book for nearly a full bell, they had been joined by all but Bilbo and Dwalin, and gained the attention of the full room. Even Thorin and the elves had stopped talking. “Okay, Mister Dori, what is it?” Balin’s voice was soft and calm, but Dori noticed his hands were gripping the book rather hard.

He smiled, and met the grey-blue eyes, “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to join in our discussion on history, but you were so wrapped up in what you were reading that I didn’t want to disturb you, Mister Balin.”

Dori held his breath as he waited for the diplomat to reply. Balin could either admit there was far more to him than met the eye, or act as if he had only just noticed the eyes on him. Balin’s eyes flashed in surprised appreciation, and he nodded slightly at the hit Dori had just scored.

“History?” his voice was still calm, and Dori knew he would have to stay alert if he was to keep ahead in this game of words. “Well, I have never turned down a discussion of history yet, Mister Dori.” There was a glimmer of laughter in Balin’s words, and Dori allowed himself a silent sigh as the white-haired dwarf hopped down from his railing and crossed the room to settle beside him.

Ignoring the others still watching and the curious expressions on the twins’ faces, Dori hummed softly. “Yes, History, Mister Balin.” He tilted his head, “I believe that while Master Elladan and Master Elrohir have been so kind as to tell us some of the history of the Noldor, they were most interested in our own history.” He gestured gently to the teapot on the floor beside him, “I would offer you tea, but I think Master Thorin drank it all.” 

He turned his eyes away from Balin and looked at the elven twins, “This is the dwarf you need to speak to if you wish to know our histories. I can give you an overview, but Mister Balin can tell you of the deeds of kings long dead, and probably even the fall of Moria itself.”

Beside him, he heard Balin swear almost silently in Khuzdul, and chalked up another point to himself even as the diplomat started to speak. “Thank you, Mister Dori, but I do believe you exaggerate. I am not as learned as you make me out to be.” Thorin’s snort got him a hard glower that Dori pretended not to notice, he knew where Balin was heading with this, and he hoped his baby brother would play along. “Now if Mister Dori had told you his youngest brother, Mister Ori, was the one you needed to speak to, then I might have backed his every word.”

Dori held his breath as identical pale-grey eyes settled on Ori, who somehow managed to flush softly, and tittered gently, “Oh, but Master Balin, you are the one who taught me everything I know, and I have nowhere near your experience of storytelling or history.”

Dori heard the exact moment Balin gave in and admitted he’d lost this round of the game. There was a soft exhale of breath beside him as Balin turned with a charming, grandfatherly smile to the elves. “Well, lads, what was it you wanted to know?”

%

Night had fallen when Gandalf returned to the communal area, and the wizard chuckled at the sight of the grown sons of Elrond hanging on to every word that fell from Balin’s lips. Having sat through the white-haired dwarf’s passionate speech about the evils of forgetting history, he could understand the spell that had fallen over the duo. Balin’s voice could reel you in, and take you to places long forgotten or yet undiscovered should he choose to do so. He was one of the few dwarves who were still able to call on the power of the stone around them. Not in the silly way that humans thought magic existed, but in a more subtle, rather unnoticeable way. Gandalf allowed himself a few moments to feel the timbre of Balin’s voice trembling down to his very bones, before he slowly crossed the room to stand beside the group. 

“I am sorry to interrupt,” he winced, as after Balin’s speech, his own voice sounded raspy and coarse. “Thorin, if you still wish Elrond to read that map, we should leave now.” He raised a hand as Balin and Dori also went to rise, alongside the twins. “Why don’t you stay here?” He smiled at Balin, “I believe this may be the longest those two have stayed still.” He turned at the scandalised gasp from Elladan, and smirked, “Now it is true, and you know it. Besides, you wanted to learn dwarven history, yes?” Two dark heads nodded, and Gandalf smiled, “What better way than to learn it from those who are going to make it.”

A soft laugh from behind him had him turning, and he bit back his own chuckle at Thorin looking put out at a respectable and tidy looking Bilbo. “Ah, perfect timing as always, my friend.”

“Now, Gandalf,” Bilbo began, crossing his arms, “If Master Thorin does not wish an outsider there at the reading of his grandfather’s map, then he does not need to take anyone. It is enough that he is letting an elf near it. Especially after the history of his people.”

Gandalf watched Thorin smirk, and realised he could be in trouble if those two ganged up on him. “Fine, Bilbo. Thorin, what do you want to do?”

The dwarf tilted his head before nodding, “I think Master Baggins is better off coming, he might be able to hear things I may over look due to my prejudice.”

%

Elrond rose from where he had been seated when they entered. “Gandalf, Master Oakenshield, and Master Baggins," he greeted softly.

Thorin stepped forward “My Lord Elrond, thank you for doing this. It means a great deal to me that you are willing to grant us your aid.”

Bilbo forced his face to remain expressionless. He wondered if Thorin was as prejudiced as he had made himself out to be, or if it was just the Lord Elrond’s family he felt kindly towards.

Thorin, unaware of Bilbo’s thoughts, was talking again, even as he slipped the map from one of his inside pockets. “I hope, perhaps, you will have luck with reading this tonight, My Lord. I do not wish for my people to intrude on your hospitality for too long.”

Elrond snorted, “Oh, tosh” he took the map gently, but looked carefully at Thorin. “You and your kin are always welcome in my halls, Master Oakenshield. Our people’s histories none withstanding, I find you to be a pleasant conversationalist and well learned. I would not be against your Company spending longer here, if you need to.” He frowned severely at Thorin for long moments, before turning to the matter at hand. He held it up to the moon light and growled softly, pouting in disappointment. “There are moon-letters there alright, but this is not the moon to read them by. Close to it, for the paper has a soft glow, but not quite there.”

Thorin echoed his sigh of disappointment, but turned with a raised eyebrow when Bilbo let out a gasp. “Your map has Moon runes?” He nodded at the excitement in Bilbo’s voice, “You mean that although there may be a different way into the mountain, we will never be able to find it unless we get the right moon?” Thorin nodded wordlessly again.

Elrond stepped forward as Gandalf stared opened mouthed at the three of them. “What does a Halfling know of moon-letters?”

Bilbo bristled slightly, “It's Hobbit, My Lord Elrond, there is no reason to be rude.” He placed his hands on his hips and frowned up at the elf, “Moon-letters are Moon-runes, one and the same, they are normally used only by the line of Durin, and are runes of ancient Khuzdul, more specifically, De KhuzdTunng. However, one cannot read them when you look straight at them. They can only be seen when the moon shines behind them.” 

He raised an eyebrow as Thorin’s mouth dropped open, “What’s more, if it was indeed your grandfather who wrote them, then I would assume he has used the more cunning way of writing them so they can only be seen when they are in the light of a moon of the same shape and season as when he scribed them.” He folded his arms across his chest, “I know they were invented by dwarves, and wrote with a silver pen, with a specialised ink made from the diluted blood of an ice worm.” He huffed, “If you can think in your past about when your grandfather or ancestor may have written them, then we would know what type of moon we need to wait for.” 

He shuffled uncomfortably at the weight of three gazes on him, “What?” he snapped, “I read.”

Thorin was the first to come to his senses. “Very well, Master Baggins, you are indeed turning out to be completely different to what I expected.”

Bilbo couldn’t help it, and snorted. “Not exactly hard to outdo your expectations, was it?”

Thorin flushed softly. “No, it wasn’t. I have reasons for my behaviour, and none of them are your business.”

Bilbo bristled again, before sighing and closing his eyes. After a couple of deep breaths, he responded calmly. “We can fight later, now you need to think of important points in time.”

 

Thorin’s brow wrinkled as he thought, “There is only one which comes to mind,” he admitted slowly. “The date of the bonding between my great-great-grandfather and his One. It was also the date of my father’s birth.”

Elrond crossed to his books, “Do you have the exact date?”

“The twelfth day of the sixth month, was the day my father was born, two hundred and fifty three years ago this year.” Thorin’s voice wavered slightly, but everyone chose not to comment.

Elrond whispered viciously as he flicked through the pages of his books, Bilbo broke the silence. “It was a crescent moon.” He paused, and shrugged, “You need a crescent moon, on a midsummer’s eve.” He turned his eyes to Elrond, “That is why the page glows, is it not? The moon waxes to a crescent in three days’ time.”

Elrond nodded, but before anyone could speak, Bilbo chuckled, “I am not going to tell anyone here my secrets before Dwalin knows them, so don’t even think of asking.” He nodded at them once, and strode through the doors, and away from Elrond’s private rooms.

Dwarf and elf turned as one to the Istari. Gandalf sighed, “Don’t look at me. I have no idea.”


	47. Chapter 48 - Light Relief.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which elves are not all graceful all of the time.

_Chapter 48 – Light relief. ___

 

Bilbo smiled as he ran through the corridors of Rivendell. Something in him was singing in joy at the shock on the faces of the Noldor lord, the dwarf of Durin and the grey Istari. That part was currently outshining the small part of his mind that was screaming at him for being stupid enough to let anyone know just how different he was. He skidded around the corner, leathery soles leaving faint marks on the polished wood, before he dug his heels in and took off down the path that lead into the dark gardens. Laughter bubbled from his lips as he danced around the starlit paths. The darkness didn’t scare him here, he found it almost freeing, and he flung back his head as he spun giddily in a circle. His curls tickling the nape of his neck, he closed his eyes as he spun faster.

 

The dwarves of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield raised their heads from where they had gathered around the two sons of Elrond. Dwalin’s face broke into a large grin even as twin grey eyes crinkled at the corners in confusion. Thorin stormed back into the wing and stopped short, causing the elf and Istari at his back to bump into him, toppling them over. Bilbo’s laugh swelled in the night air, and even as Thorin watched, Kíli and Fíli started to chuckle along with the infectious sound. While his nephews didn’t bother to hide their chuckles, Ori was hiding his sniggers in his elbow. Bombur was grinning merrily, and Dwalin shot his cousin a salute when he caught sight of the pile of elf, dwarf and Istari on the floor. 

“Well I don’t know what the three of you did to put him in such a good mood, but I thank you for it.” Dwalin mimed doffing his hat as Thorin ground his teeth, “Now if you fine gentlemen will excuse me, I am going to find my hobbit.”

 

Fíli and Kíli finally caught sight of their uncle, and collapsed into a laughing pile on the floor. Behind them, Elladan and Elrohir were biting their lips, with shoulders shaking, as they finally caught sight of the position their father had ended up in. Thorin pouted slightly up at the twins, “Well, I am glad you find my situation amusing.”

 

Elladan was the first to regain his composure, “My apologies, Master Oakenshield. I personally was not laughing at you, but at my father.”

 

Thorin rested his chin on the hand he could move, “While that is well and good, I don’t suppose you could remove the two of them off me?”

 

He sighed when all he managed to do was send the elf into another peal of laughter. While the laughter was very musical and he did enjoy hearing it, he would have preferred a helping hand. Taking a deep breath, he braced his free hand on the floor, and pushed. The weight of elf and Istari was no match for dwarven strength and stubbornness, and Thorin soon freed himself from the bottom of the pile. 

“Well, that was undignified,” he huffed, brushing dust off his tunic and straightening it. Gandalf was chuckling from where he was still pinned under a dazed looking Elrond, and Thorin sighed, eyeing his unhelpful company with a gimlet eye. With a mental note to get revenge on the whole lot of them, Thorin offered Elrond his hand. It was little effort to get the elf on his feet, although he had to steady the taller male when the elf stumbled.

Gandalf pushed to his own feet once he was free of the weight of the elf and extra robes, Thorin wincing at the pops the old man’s knees gave as he rose. “That is not normal.”

Gandalf turned from where he had peered out into the darkness, “It is for someone of my age, Thorin.” He eyed the elven twins who had flopped to the floor beside the Durin heirs. “I would be more worried about what the four of them can get up to rather than my knees making noises at you.”

Thorin nodded, and after checking Elrond could lean against the nearest pillar without falling, drew Gandalf away with a hand on his elbow. 

“Gandalf,” he started, before hesitating, unsure exactly how to start. Clearing his throat, he soldiered on, “How did Master Baggins know so much about my people? About the Line of Durin in particular?” 

Thorin sighed, “I am not used to sharing my race’s secrets openly, and yet tonight I found myself trusting a hobbit and an elf, both of whom knew more than I ever thought possible. The elf probably shouldn’t be a surprise, but Master Baggins! He could recall the phases of the moon from a time long before he was born, when even the Noldor needed his books. He knew of moon letters. He knew the difference between the language given to us by our creator and the one the Line of Durin created for our rituals and secrets, the language our people call ancient Khuzdul. He knew the ink we use, the ink only used by our family, the rest of my people use the blood of an ice lizard, more easily found, and not as hard to get.”

A thought occurred to him, and he shot his eyes to Gandalf’s startled ones, and realised the wizard had had the same epiphany, “He also knew exactly when the next moon would be available.” 

Gandalf sighed, and took his hat off to run fingers through his hair. “I do not know much about the race of Hobbits, Thorin. No one does. Even Elrond or Galadriel wouldn’t be able to tell you much about it. No one outside of their borders can speak their language, and very few people even know they have their own tongue. I cannot tell you if Bilbo is your normal hobbit, or if he is unique even among his own folk.” Gandalf’s eyes twinkled with a flash of humour, “You cannot deny he is more than you could have ever hoped for.”

Thorin growled, “My reasons for acting as I did are my own, Gandalf, so don’t even try to pry into them. Master Baggins is indeed different from what I expected. I still don’t know if he is capable of the job you chose him for. Right now I cannot ponder on that, I am still too uncomfortable about what he knows of my people and how he found it out.”

Their conversation was cut short when a restored Elrond joined them. “My apologies for landing on you, Master Oakenshield. I will still offer my aid if you want it for the reading of the moon runes.”

Thorin nodded, “I will accept any aid you are willing to offer My Lord Elrond.”

The elf nodded and flashed a rare smile, “Your hobbit is a rare breed, Master Oakenshield.”

Thorin chuckled, “He isn’t mine. Dwalin’s maybe, if he is anyone’s.”

Elrond nodded, “My apologies again, I merely thought that as he was present for the reading of your grandfather’s map he was special to you. Then again, I am not as all knowing as I pretend to be.” Elrond made an expansive motion with his hands, “It is late, and I should leave you all now. Would you like me to remove my sons?”

Thorin considered the last question, dismissing the rest with an abrupt wave of his hand. His nephews seemed to be opening up to the two elves, while Ori, Dori and Balin were listening to the interaction with soft smiles. “I think your sons are okay to remain, My Lord Elrond, I haven’t seen any of my company that relaxed around strangers in a long while.” He shot the elf in front of him a rare smile, “In fact, I will even go as far to say I quite enjoy their company.” He started to walk away, “If it isn’t rude of me to give you an invite in your own home, you are welcome to join us.”

Gandalf’s laugh rolled out, “I think Elrond and myself will retreat to a quiet glass of wine and our memories, Thorin.” He pulled the unresisting elf after him, “Have fun.”

 

Thorin growled as he sank inelegantly to the ground, “Bloody wizard.” He turned an innocent face to the elf twins, “So do you really think I will let you corrupt my nephews?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to fierynightangel for this random note: Gandalf is about 1941 years old at this point; according the back of RotK, the wizards didn't appear in Middle Earth until about 1000 years into the 3rd Age.


	48. Chapter 49 - Fine Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> catching up.

_Chapter Forty Nine – Fine Again. ___

Thorin was glad to put all thoughts of the confusing hobbit behind him as he focused solely on the two elves who had seemingly attached themselves to his nephews while he was gone. As fond as he was of his kin, he knew they could find trouble in the strangest of circumstances, often without needing to try. Adding on to that the stories he had heard of the elven twins, and he was rather worried if Rivendell would still be standing at the end of the Company's stay in the beautiful valley, especially as he had found he rather liked its guardian. That the elves had blushed at his statement, while his nephews had remained straight faced had brought him no small joy, and he had grinned toothily at them while wondering if he could manage to make them do it again. They were both so anxious to reassure him that they were not planning on corrupting his nephews at all, (Elrohir slightly more so than Elladan) that the two failed to see the pouts on the faces of the youngest Durins.

Fili stood with a dramatic huff. "Fine, then," he cried, tilting his nose up. "I can tell where I am not wanted." Thorin found himself fighting down his own blush at his oldest heir's dramatics, and wondered just why the lad was so at ease in the presence of two strangers. Not that he was complaining, mind you, but his confusion was making it hard to think straight, especially when Kili watched his brother flounce away with a look of unholy glee in his eyes before pushing gracefully to his feet and collecting his bow and the youngest Ri, also left the terrace.

Thorin rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "Right then…" he began, trailing off as he realised he really didn't have any words.

"I wouldn't worry, Master Oakenshield," Elrohir leant in to offer him comfort, stumbling over his words slightly as he continued, "Is everything else okay, other than you thinking we would corrupt your nephews, and that, whatever that was, which just occurred?" Thorin raised a confused eyebrow as the words sunk in, and smiled wearily at the elf as Elladan slumped with a groan.

Closing his eyes to gain back some composure at those ancient, yet young grey eyes being so close to him, Thorin drew a deep breath through his mouth, before letting it go in a huff. It was only when he opened them that he realised that Bofur had also disappeared in the last few moments, apparently with Balin and Dori. Blinking rapidly, Thorin turned back to the elven twins, a wry smile on his face.

"Well, other than the fact I have managed to fall over, be flattened by not only your father, but also the wizard, and none of my Company came to my aid, and you two just laughed at me." He hid his smirk as Elrohir blushed deeply again and Elladan sunk further down, hiding his face in his hands. "Then there is also the fact I cannot read my own people's language, but your father can, but can't do so for another three nights because my grandfather was a bloody specific Bakraz when he wrote on a map in a language no one but Elrond can read. And that is just in the past bell." He smiled winningly at the two elves in front of him, "So back on to the discussion we were having about the Legend of Amroth. "

%

Dwalin had slipped into the dark gardens of Rivendell to hunt down his rather happy sounding One. The laugh captivated him, and he was drawn towards it, as if a moth to a flame. He found Bilbo in the garden maze, and upon the challenge in the hobbit's smirk, stepped across the low hedges with ease and wrapped his arms around the smaller male. Bilbo came into his embrace easily and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. Never one to turn away from a good situation, Dwalin returned the kisses happily, and soon they were swaying under the moon and stars, wrapped in each other's arms and oblivious of the world around them.

%

Balin had escaped the Company's terrace as soon as Thorin had drawn enough attention to himself. He was rather confused as to how he had lost in a game he considered himself master of, and yet at the same time, thrilled he would have someone he could try his wits against. Master Dori had to have known he could feel the eyes on him, and yet instead of speaking up, had forced him to pretend he had just noticed rather than give up the grandfatherly image he projected. He smiled despite his loss as he realised Master Dori also hid behind a well put together mask. A mask he had no idea how to get under, but a mask all the same. Now if Balin could just find out the key, he could turn the tables on the polite dwarf. He leant against the railing in front of him and carefully lit his pipe. Since Master Dori had won the first round, it would be up to Balin to begin the next one. This would require careful planning.

%

Dori leant against the pillar behind him and smirked lightly. He hadn't expected to win against Master Balin so easily, and so when the white-haired dwarf had slipped away, he had followed. Everyone always thought Nori was the only member of the Ri family able to slip through the shadows, but even if they had thought to wonder where he had learnt it, they would never have suspected polite, careful Dori. It was a point in his favour that no one had guessed, in this instance it gave him a good chance to keep an eye on Master Balin as he plotted. He wondered if Master Balin realised he occasionally muttered around the stem of his pipe as he thought. Dori very much doubted the diplomat did, or he would have cured the habit a long time ago. He was very much looking forward to the next round, and wondered if Master Balin would make him wait to keep him on his toes, or if he would try the next round immediately.

%

Kili and Ori slipped to the moonlit archery range, Ori's hand firmly tucked in Kili's as the darker brunette drew him through Rivendell. Ori had been a little surprised when the prince had tugged him away in full view of his uncle, but then realised they could probably get away with disappearing together because of how they had grown together over the course of the journey so far. He hadn't failed to notice that Kili had his bow and a quiver of arrows with them, and if it weren't for the fact he was getting alone time with his One, would have questioned if the dark of the night was a good time to learn.

Kili marvelled that Ori let him lead him off into the darkness, and smiled warmly when he realised it meant he trusted him. Instead of starting training straight away when they reached the archery range, he turned and shyly pressed a kiss to Ori's lips. Before he could draw away or blush too much, there were warm hands on his hips, and lips moved against his. He gasped softly as they broke apart, that was definitely different to the chaste pecks they had shared before. Still smiling, he drew back further and started to teach Ori the basic form and movements to begin his training.

%

Fili held back a chuckle as he wandered to the chairs at the edge of the outer terrace. He could barely believe it had been only a few days previous that he had sat with Bofur as the miner-come-toymaker tried to teach him how to carve wood. Then he had wondered how to convince Bofur that he had fallen for him, and now he had kissed the miner. Sure, they still had to find a way to break the news to Thorin, and boy, was he not looking forward to that, but he was sure in the end his uncle would understand, and he was not above fighting for Bofur if it came down to it. As he thought, he wandered further into the walkways around the edges of the buildings of Rivendell. If he was surprised when a strong hand pulled him back into a shadowed alcove, then he didn't show it, merely readied himself for a fight. It wasn't until a soft chuckle and the smell of pine reached him that he knew who had grabbed him and relaxed, turning in their loose grip to bury his head in their chest.

%

Bofur had watched the elven twins dig themselves a larger and larger hole with the Durin princes and had snickered quietly at Fili's dramatic exit. Without realising it, he had slipped away from the Company and followed softly after the blonde. The dark chuckle had sent a shiver down his spine, and he had pulled Fili towards him, despite knowing he was taking his life in his hands doing so. Fili thankfully didn't attack first, and after a relieved chuckle, Bofur had a very cuddly prince pressed against his chest. He tightened his arms around the blonde's narrow waist and pressed a soft kiss to the golden locks. He still couldn't really believe that he could call Fili his, or himself Fili's.

%

Gandalf and Elrond sat in silence, staring into the depths of dancing flames. They were both lost in remembrance, occasionally taking sips from the delicate crystal glasses filled with rich wine that they held loosely in their hands. Both were older than any in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield could truly image, and while Elrond was physically the older being from his time on Arda, Gandalf had just as many, if not more, years locked in his memory, and it was his body that had aged. Elrond's thoughts wove around his long passed wife, and on to the doings of his two sons and only daughter, sweeping over his newest charge, and wondering if he should confide in Gandalf and ask his advice. Gandalf's thoughts dwelt heavily on the dragon that rested at the end of the journey he had set thirteen dwarves and a hobbit on, before moving onto the puzzle that one Thorin Oakenshield had become to him, and the happy thought of the bonds that now ran between members of the Company.

%

Gloin had removed himself to his room, and after many tries at drifting off to sleep, gave up on the idea and carefully lifted an old and tattered book from the bedside table. The moonlight proved enough for him to read by, and he immersed himself in the fall of Oropher, who was slain in the Battle of Dagorlad before the Black Gate of Mordor, and the losses that were dealt to the Silvan elves in that dreadful Age. As he read, he couldn't help but wonder just how young the now backstabbing, cold hearted Thranduil had been when he had joined his father in that battle, and if that had been when he truly became what he was this day.

%

Oin had retreated to the outer terrace after deciding he had had enough of company for that night. He unconsciously followed the path Fili had taken to the chairs overlooking the herb garden and sank heavily into one. Despite joining in the laughter of the Company and the elven twins, his heart was heavy this night. He stared into the dark, star covered vastness of the night sky and willed his tears not to fall. An image of a dark auburn haired beauty appeared in his mind, and he found himself drawn into the memories of the first time he had met Skena. Despite his resolve and the happy memories, the tears still slid freely down his cheeks and left silver trails in the moonlight.

%

Bombur was still pouring over the old book he had smuggled from the Rivendell library, he'd had no doubt he would be allowed to read it under the watchful eye of the librarian, but he hadn't really wanted to stay in such an obviously elven place. He ran his finger across a word and frowned as he mouthed it to himself. Focusing, he drew a sheet of parchment towards him, and dipping a prepared quill into an ink pot, painstakingly traced the letters onto it. It took him several attempts, but he finally got the word to look right. Smiling, Bombur carefully placed the quill down and rubbed at his eyes, before stretching to click his back. While he was determined to teach himself to read and write, he hadn't realised it would be so hard, or that there would be so many rules. Drawing a deep breath, he picked up the parchment and mouthed the words he had written there to himself. His One would be so surprised when he wrote her a letter telling her of what they had seen so far and how much he loved and missed his family.

%

Bifur had fallen asleep at his feet, and Nori absent-mindedly ran his hands through the dwarf's white-striped, black, shaggy hair. It was strange, but he almost felt content. There were two elves in front of him, talking to Thorin, crown prince of Erebor and heir to the Line of Durin, and he was relaxed. Ori had disappeared, as well as Dori, yet for once he didn't have the hidden urge to check on his family, since his mind had decide Rivendell was a safe place without his consent. Yes, he decided, he was almost content. He glanced with a small frown at the axe in Bifur's forehead. Now if he could just find a way to ease his friend's pain and guilt, he could call himself completely content. After all, he'd never believed he would be lucky enough to have a One, so what did it matter if he would never dare show his body to anyone? Smiling softly, he joined Bifur in sleep, failing to realise he had stood shirtless before the said dwarf only days before.

An:

Translation:

Bakraz – nutter.

Legend of Amroth- Amroth was a beautiful elfprince of Lothlórien's Woodland Realm, who when his father was killed in the Battle of Dagorlad in SA3434, became the last ruling Sindar over the Realm. He loved Nimrodel, who only agreed to marry him after fleeing the forest, and he followed agreeing (after a long discussion) to take her somewhere safe. They were separated on the journey to the Undying Lands, and so he waited for her. When the last ship was to sail, there was a great storm over night which tore the ship from its moorings and tossed her into the coasts of Umbar. When Amroth found the ship gone, he cried out his love's name and threw himself into the waters below and drowned.


	49. Chapter 50 - If Only You Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrohir makes cakes and Dwalin finds out Bilbo's age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *De KhuzdTunng*
> 
> With thanks to my Beta Musume_no_Suoh.

_Chapter Fifty – If Only You Knew. ___

Thorin grumbled softly as he awoke to brilliant sunlight shining into his eyes. He had obviously fallen asleep talking to the elven twins, and from the silence in the terrace he was the only one yet awake. Turning his head to peer around him, he let out a shout of fright at being confronted with two pairs of open, grey eyes. Scrabbling backwards, his heart beating rapidly, he stared in horror at the two unmoving elves before him. His shout disturbed Nori and Bifur, who responded with groans and much grumbling. Before he could think further, both pairs of eyes blinked, and one of the twins muttered uncomplimentary things under his breath as he threw an arm over his eyes. The other stretched, groaning as things quietly popped back into place.

"Why are you shouting, Master Oakenshield? It is far too early to be awake when we do not have patrol."

Thorin blinked at the definite pout in the voice and opened his mouth to reply, before shaking his head and calming his still galloping heart. "Normal people sleep with their eyes closed," he groused, before pushing to his feet and making a dash to one of the bathing rooms as he felt the blush climb up under his beard.

Elrohir turned confused eyes on to a blearily blinking Nori, "What?"

"Erm, I think Thorin didn't realise elves sleep with their eyes open." His explanation was broken by a yawn he didn't even try to hide. "Me thinks he thought you had died. Bifur you cannot go back to sleep, I need to go hunt down my brothers. Oh, come on, get off." As tired as he was, he couldn't help the whine that crept into his voice at the end, and ignoring the two elves' presence, turned to convince Bifur to let go of his leg.

*Shan't* Bifur's voice was barely audible as he wrapped a hand around Nori's ankle to keep him still. *Pillow not talk, me sleep.*

Elrohir blinked at being so suddenly ignored, and turned to his brother, groaning as he realised his twin was still asleep. Pouting, he then turned his gaze on the very firmly shut door of the bathing room Master Oakenshield had disappeared into. What was he supposed to do now he was awake and being ignored?

Nori sighed as Bifur mumbled at him. It was hard enough to understand what the toy-maker was saying at the best of times without him mumbling. "Bifur, come on, let go," he grumbled, poking the other dwarf in the shoulder. "Please, let go." A rumble was all he got in response, so he decided a different tactic was in order. "Much too early for this," Nori muttered in an aside, before switching to an almost crooning tone, "If you let me go, I will make you pie."

Bifur vaguely heard words directed at him, but refused to wake up fully. He'd been having nice dreams for once. Dreams of gems and flowers, rather than blood and death. Pie sounded nice though, who was offering him pie? His fingers relaxed as he drifted deeper into his dreams again, Amad was standing at the kitchen stove, mixing bowl tucked under one arm, and spoon raised threateningly over Taad's knuckles as he tried to pinch a taste. The air was thick with the smell of apples and cinnamon, and he stretched tiny grabby hands towards the heights of his laughing Taad.

Nori sighed as Bifur let go of his ankle and curled into a ball against the chair leg. He hadn't managed to wake the other, but at least he was free. Smiling at the sight of Bifur's peaceful expression, he stood and managed to move the other dwarf into the chair. He raised an eyebrow as the toy-maker snuggled into the warmth he had left behind, a soft, "drukat" falling from his lips.

Fighting down the urge to hurt something when he realised that was only the second time he had ever seen that expression on Bifur's face, Nori left the Company's terrace. Strangely, he found Dori without having to really look, and it wasn't until startled hazel eyes flew to his, that he realised tears were running down his face. He had just raised a hand to furiously wipe them away, when he was pulled into his elder brother's embrace. For once he didn't fight, and snuggled into the warmth and security he had forgotten Dori always shared freely. Without warning, the dam broke, and he started to sob, not loud sobs, but quiet ones that shook his shoulders and had Dori merely pulling him closer and running a soothing hand over his hair. Never once did his brother ask what was wrong, merely stood there and let him cry on him. He should have sensed others around him, but it wasn't until he smelt ink and parchment that he realised his baby brother had joined the hug and was pressed to his side, slender arms wrapped around both Dori's shoulders and his own.

%

Thorin flipped the lock on the door behind him as he sank to the floor. He hadn't expected to wake up to blank eyes looking back at him, and for one awful moment, he had thought the twins had died. How he had never known elves sleep with their eyes wide open he would never know, but seeing them like that had brought back memories of the harsh marches after Erebor fell to the worm, and the losses his people had suffered on the slopes of Azanulbizar.

Shaking himself free of the depressing thoughts, he pushed to his feet and stumbled over to the baths to start one running. He was getting too old for such shocks, and suddenly felt bad for all the times he and Dwalin had ran from Balin when he had attempted to watch them on the visits to the mines. He would have to find a way to apologise for that, it was no wonder his poor friend's hair and beard were white.

When he emerged from the now rapidly cooling water, he felt much better, and grumbled as he realised he owed Elrohir an apology for running away from him in such a cowardly manner and snapping at him. Drying his beard carefully, Thorin checked all his buckles were in place, and stepped through the door into the communal area, only to smile at the sight of Bombur sitting beside Elladan and pouring over a book with the lanky elf. They made a strange sight, but Bombur's face was filled with such thankfulness that Thorin really couldn't bring himself to laugh. He never would have guessed that Dori inviting the two elves back with him would have such an effect on his Company. Smiling softly, he looked around for the other twin, and pouted as he realised he was nowhere in sight. Elladan must have caught his sigh and looked up quizzically, smiling widely when he saw Thorin, and pointing at the kitchen.

Returning the smile, Thorin straightened his shoulders and headed to the kitchen. At the door, he couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Elrohir flapping his hands at a cloud of flour in an attempt to disperse it. It didn't help matters when the elf turned and he saw there was flour streaked across his forehead and down one cheek. At the blush that spread up the elf's cheeks, Thorin attempted to control his laughter, and after several moments of lip biting, succeeded. Walking further into the room, he took the mixing bowl from the elf and placed it down on the table, frowning when he had to hop onto the boards around its edges to see properly.

"You need to add the flour slowly," he stated, wondering why he had suddenly decided to teach the elf to cook. Quizzical grey eyes met his, and he chuckled. "Baking is a secret passion of mine," he admitted with a soft blush. Thankfully, Elrohir didn't ask anything further, only gestured to the table in front of them. "Yes, well, you add the flour slowly to the mixture, or it flies back at up in your face, which also gives you time to fold it in to the butter and sugar mixture."

Thorin smiled as Elrohir started to sift the flour into the mixture, adding a quarter before slowly mixing it in. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed the simple pleasure of baking and having someone to bake with.

When the two of them emerged from the kitchen, a proudly smiling Elrohir carrying two plates of brightly iced cupcakes, the Company had all gathered back in the communal area. Thorin noticed instantly the happy glow Ori had been wearing had vanished, Dori looked sombre and rather soggy, while Nori rather rumpled. Bilbo was sitting and talking quietly to the trio while Bifur was glaring around the room at anyone who dared approach them.

Thorin took a step forwards, causing Bilbo to look up, shake his head, and offer him a smile. He watched as the hobbit's eyes landed on the cupcakes the elf beside him was carrying, and turn to whisper something into Nori's ear. Red rimmed green eyes looked up, and Thorin saw the calculating gleam return to them as the thief looked between a flour covered Elrohir and himself. When there was a twitch of a smirk, Thorin closed his eyes in relief, wincing as he heard Dori's laugh rip over the Company. He had forgotten Dori was the biggest gossip he knew.

Kili raised a questioning eyebrow as Ori left his brothers' sides and flopped across him with a groan of "Too much damn drama," but didn't move to shift the dwarf, merely curling an arm around his shoulders and chuckling softly.

Fili's attention finally caught from where he was sitting by Bofur attempting to carve, looked up. Thorin watched as his expression went slack for a second before a joyful smile spread over his face. "Uncle, you made cakes!" he exclaimed, pushing to his feet and rushing over.

Thorin winced as he cleared his throat, "No, nephew, Master Elrohir made cakes, I merely advised."

Fili looked up into the blushing face of the elf, and straightened his face, "If that is the case, could I please try one of the cupcakes, Master Elrohir?"

The rest of the day was spent eating cake and with much joking. Nori seemed returned to his normal self, and snarked wickedly if he thought anyone deserved it. Dori was back to merely shaking his head in embarrassment, while Balin watched quietly from the sidelines, reminding Thorin of his need to find a way to apologise for his youthful misadventures.

At some point in the afternoon, Bilbo dragged Dwalin off for further practice, and so they stood under the bright sun as the hobbit went through drills again and again. Dwalin had seen that sort of focus only once, and it was in Oin when he had thrown himself into healing after Skena had died. It finally sank in that Bilbo wasn't doing this to protect himself, but to once again put himself between those he thought of as young and in danger. Groaning, Dwalin called a stop, and took a large swallow of water as he mulled over how he could approach the subject. Bilbo took that need away from him.

"You don't need to worry I am going to run in, stupidly swinging a blade with no thought for my own safety, Dwalin. I want to learn so I can defend those I care about, yes, however, I am aware that there is only Kili not of age, and I am also the youngest member of the Company." Bilbo offered Dwalin a smile as the dwarf choked on his water. "I thought you knew that, Dwalin."

Dwalin drew in a breath as dread swam through him, "How old are you?"

"Fifty-three, Dwalin," there was humour threaded through that voice, but Dwalin merely heard the age, and his water pouch tumbled from his fingers.

"Fifty-three?"

"Aye, fifty-three. Try breathing."

Dwalin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, when he opened them, Bilbo was leaning against one of the railings around the arena, and he took in the hobbit from the top of his curls to the tips of his toes. "You aren't under age though, are you?" Dwalin winced at how unsure that sounded, he really didn't want to have gone there.

Bilbo's laugh echoed brightly across training area. "Oh, Yavanna, no. Hobbits come of age at thirty-three. I am veritably middle aged."

Dwalin closed his eyes again, "Oh, thank Mahal."

Bilbo was sniggering, but he refused to open his eyes, "Oh, come on, Dwalin, you seriously didn't think someone that under age would have been able to have a stranger in his home for three days without anyone coming to check on them, did you? You didn't think I was a child when you met me, in fact, up until I told you my age in numbers, the thought hadn't even crossed your mind."

Blinking, Dwalin was relieved to see Bilbo was still smiling, and he sighed, before answering, "Just startled me for a moment, is all."

That look was back in Bilbo's eyes, and Dwalin swallowed hard as the hobbit sashayed towards him, "So if I were to do this, you wouldn't back away?" Dwalin blinked as warm arms threaded around his waist and neck.

"Nope, no running away," he breathed.

"What if I was to do this?" Soft lips were on his, and Dwalin kissed back just as softly.

"Still not running." He managed when he caught his breath.

Bilbo's grin grew, and he wound his hands into Dwalin's hair to tug it, tilting Dwalin's head back so he could reach the dwarf's throat, "And what if I would do this?"

Dwalin froze as sharp teeth nipped at his collar bone, before the pain was soothed by the swipe of a hot tongue. Unable to help himself, he groaned loudly, struggling to form words as soft kisses were pressed up his throat and his hair was softly tugged. "Beg for mercy," he managed huskily.

"Good," Bilbo growled, hooking a leg around Dwalin's ankles and bringing them both down. Dwalin gasped as his hobbit settled across his groin in broad daylight, yes, they were currently alone and still completely clothed, but he knew his senses often fled when Bilbo started doing this. Opening his mouth he went to talk, before it hit him with blinding clarity that the smaller male had just floored him with ease. His eyes flew to Bilbo's face, and he gasped at the mischief and lust he could see in those green-hazel eyes.

Bilbo smiled widely, "There is so much you don't yet know of me, miz duzkak," he breathed across Dwalin's ear, and the dwarf found himself biting his lip to focus on what Bilbo was saying. "So much I want to share with you," soft lips were on his, and his hands soothed up Bilbo's back.

He buried his head in the crook of Bilbo's neck when they broke apart, "I know I love you," he breathed, taking in the scent of sandalwood and lavender that was always around his hobbit. "I know I do not want to be without you, miz vaen, bravaz andr aalv. Anything else I learn is just more reasons to love you."

Bilbo chuckled and pressed another kiss to Dwalin's lips. "Can we play a game?" he asked as he sat back.

Dwalin raised himself onto his elbows and raised an eyebrow, "What sort of game?"

"I want to see how good you are at tracking," there was a pause and Bilbo smiled guiltily, "And how long I can avoid you for."

Dwalin nodded softly, "I don't see why not, but Kili is our hunter, and Nori is the best tracker out of all of us."

"I will bare that in mind for further training," that spark was back, and Dwalin swallowed, "But I certainly won't be rewarding them the same way I would you."

"When do we start?"

"Now."

With that word, Bilbo pressed a scorching kiss to Dwalin's lips, and darted off into the gardens. "Oh, I am so screwed!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An:
> 
> Translations.
> 
> Drukat – Home.
> 
> Taad – Father.
> 
> Amad-Mother.
> 
> Miz druzkak-My love.
> 
> Miz vaen, bravaz andr aalv-my beautiful, brave other half.


	50. Chapter 51 - The Heart of Everything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to FanFiction Queen for aid given with my Sindarin.

_Chapter Fifty One – The Heart of Everything. ___

"Gwedeir!" The young voice broke through the peace that dwelt in the wing that had been lent to the Company during their stay in Rivendell, causing several dwarves to mutter under their breaths, Bilbo to curl closer into Dwalin's bare chest, and Elladan to blink slowly into alertness. His brother wasn't so lucky though, and found himself awoken by a small, blurred shape barrelling onto his stomach as he fought to awaken from his waking-dreams.

"Man?" Elrohir's voice came out breathless as he automatically tightened his arms around the bundle sitting on his torso. "Estel?" He struggled to sit up, oblivious to the heads of several confused dwarves sticking out from their bedrooms. "Glân galu tithing gwador."

Elladan managed to calm his laughter to a soft chuckle as he took in his little brother's frantically flitting eyes and jutting bottom lip. "Tola Estel," he crooned, "Man na rhoeg?"

Estel merely widened his pale grey eyes and pouted further, "Lindir," he muttered in a childish sulk, arms crossed over his narrow chest and sinking against Elrohir's chest.

Kili decided at that point that enough was enough. He may have understood very little of the conversation that had taken place, but he recognised a younger brother trying to get his elder to do something. After all, he had done the same to Fili loads. Running a hand over his hair and carefully smoothing his under tunic down, Kili stuffed his feet into his battered boots and left his rooms with a simple "Good morning." He froze as the child looked at him before hitching a smile onto his face. That was no elf, but one of the race of Men.

He held himself carefully as the young human scrabbled to his feet to attempt a bow, blinking as he realised the lad was nearly the same height as him already. Careful to keep his smile on his face, he realised he would have to be the first to talk. "Kili, son of Dis, at your service."

Behind the young one, the elven twins visibly relaxed, and yet Kili's eyes stayed fixed on the human's pale grey orbs. The young face softened slightly, and Kili watched as he chewed a lower lip in worry. Without warning, the young one blurted out, "Pleased to meet you, I'm Estel."

Kili bowed softly again as he finally noticed the gobsmacked expressions on Elladan's face. "Well met, young one." This time his smile was real, and he held his hand out for the child to take. Estel came forward cautiously, and Kili nodded down at him as small hands that were already showing signs of weapon's training grasped at one of his. "Now then, Young Master, how do you know these two?"

Estel blinked at him, apparently unsure why anyone needed to ask. "They are my Gwedeir!" he stated proudly, as if that explained everything.

Kili supposed it probably did, but as he had very little knowledge of Sindarin, it helped him not one bit. "That is all well and good, Young Master, but I do not speak Elvish."

The human holding his hand let out a soft giggle, and Kili relaxed further. The only one who would have problems with a human this young would be Ori, but Kili hoped that seeing that he had relaxed around the lad would help the scribe. Shaking himself, the dwarf turned back to the human at his side when he noticed the incessant tugging at his hand.

"It's not Elvish, silly," The child hanging on his arm smiled charmingly, "It is Sindarin. Erestor has me learning this, Quenya, and Silvan, along with Annúnaid. I do not much like Silvan, it makes my tongue tie in knots." 

Kili raised an eyebrow at the babbling, but his humour must have shown on his face as Estel went on. "Erestor is the head librarian here, and he also teaches me. I can also do arithmetic, and I am learning to read and scribe in all four languages. My Gwedeir have been teaching me to defend myself, and Glorfindel is going to start teaching me to shoot when he gets back, he promised."

Kili jumped in to the opening that he found when the child paused for breath. "I am impressed, I can only speak my people's tongue and Westron, which is what I assume Ann…Annunaid is. I can write again in my people's tongue, which by the way is called Khuzdul, and in common, as well as read them rather well." He flashed the human a smile, "Now, you were going to tell me what Gwedeir meant."

A slight blush stole up Estel's cheeks and he bit his lip. "Sorry, it means brother. Well, it is more complicated than that, but yes, that is what it means."

Kili frowned a little at the slight sadness he could see in the young eyes. "Now then, Young Master, don't pout at me, or your brothers will use me for target practice." 

He patted the small hands with his spare, and towed the child along so they could sit. Estel curling up beside him sent a jolt of an unidentifiable emotion through him, but Kili merely smiled, "After watching you this morning, I have no doubt they love you as if you were a blood sibling." He smiled widely as Estel raised hopeful eyes to his, and pretended the two elves didn't look shocked, "Yes indeed, Young Master, now will you stay around long enough to meet my brother and my family?"

The dark head was nodding ecstatically, and Kili laughed and waved a hand. "You might as well all come out properly, the laddie isn't going anywhere before he meets you all."

To his surprise, it was Ori who joined them first, the scribe couldn't quite hide his nervousness, but still walked directly over to them and held out his hand for Estel to shake. "Ori, son of the House Ri, it is a pleasure to meet you, Young Master."

Kili tensed lightly as the human hopped off the chair to shake Ori's hand, "My name is Estel, and I am so pleased to meet you as well. Are you Master Kili's brother?"

Ori blinked and froze as the small hands grasped his, but found himself melting at the sight of the bright smile. "I am afraid not, young one. That pleasure is still to befall you. If you wish, you can also meet many of his family as well." He patted the small hand still in his, "I heard you say you are being trained in scribing, Young Master, is this true?"

Kili relaxed as Ori snuggled next to him and Estel leant against the arm of the chair, blinking at them. "Not entirely, Master Ori, but I have been told I need to learn."

Ori laughed at the very obvious pout the young human was supporting. "Now that is a shame. I was looking forward to someone to share my interests with."

Estel tilted his head as he tried to understand that, "You like reading and writing?"

Ori nodded enthusiastically, "Oh, yes, Young Estel, very much so. A well written story or even a historical account can take you to distant places, daring sword fights, magic spells, and even maybe a prince in disguise."

The pale grey eyes opened widely. "You have stories and histories about such things?"

Ori wrinkled his brow, "What is your kajul teaching you?" Shaking his head, he opened his mouth to claim it didn't matter when Estel interrupted.

"Oh. What is ka…ju…l please?" The way he carefully pronounced the word made Ori bite his lip, before sighing as he realised he couldn't give the true translation.

"It is hard to translate to Westron, young Estel, it could roughly mean teacher."

"Oh," young eyes went bright with joy, "Who was your teacher, Master Ori? Because he sounds more fun than mine."

Ori gestured for the young human to stand up and turn around to where Balin was waiting to smile gently at him. "I was, laddie. Balin Fenwinson, at your service, young lord."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Balin, sir, my name is Estel." Kili draped an arm across Ori's shoulder, and stuck his tongue out at the collection of dwarves who still hadn't moved forward, before snorting as he realised Bilbo's door was still firmly shut. Ori snuggled deeply into Kili's side as he watched with sparkling eyes as Estel sized up the newcomer. "What's wrong with the colour of your hair?"

Silence fell over the room, with Elrohir and Elladan staggering to their feet, before Balin laughed. "The colour of my hair, young one? Let me tell you a story."

Estel nodded eagerly, and Balin allowed himself to be pulled to the cushions on the floor.

"Very well, young one. Many years ago, before you were even born, there was a beautiful dwarven kingdom within a mountain. Its halls stretched from its very peaks, to deep in the rock under it. In this kingdom, many Dwarrow lived and worked side by side. I was lucky enough to be born into this fantastic place, and I grew up surrounded by glittering jewels and ropes of gold. I was also gifted to be the eldest of all of my generation within my family. I was blessed with a younger brother," here, Balin pointed at the still shut door. "He has always liked to lie in late, and doesn't always follow the rules. A sister, who could not stay away from a fight, and another brother who decided to choose archery as his chosen field of combat."

He raised an eyebrow at a spell bound Estel, who was watching him in awe, "Can you imagine a dwarf choosing archery? I should have known better even then."

Ignoring the stiffening of the spines of his kin at the casual mention of his two deceased siblings, Balin carried on. "I was also gifted with three younger cousins, Dis, Frenrin and Thorin. Now, Thorin is with us, he is the one standing there," Balin pointed at the royal dwarf, who waved back, a smiled fixed on his face. Estel gaped for a short while before finally waving back and then turning to look at Balin again.

Chuckling, the white haired dwarf continued. "Now, since I was the oldest, I ended up having to run after this lot all over the kingdom, and let me tell you, it was tiring work. Skena often had to be physically prised off children who had insulted her or those she cared for. Even when she was grown, she would still fight those who sullied the family's honour. Vili was easy to keep an eye on, as he had a head full of golden hair," Estel's eyes wandered to where Fili leant against the back of Kili's chair, having crept there at some point, and Balin laughed. "No, that isn't him, he isn't yet born in this part of the story. Now, as I was saying, Vili was easy to find with his hair. As a child, he loved to drive our mother round the bend with hiding in darkened corners and jumping out at her. Then came the day he was to choose his weapons, and he picked up a bow. Now, while there is nothing wrong with a bow, it is most definitely not dwarvish. I also had to spend days fixing his forearms up where he had thought he had known better than the few dwarves in our home who could shoot."

Rolling his neck, Balin shut his eyes in memory, "Skipping Dwalin for later, I will tell you about my cousin Frerin. He was loud, and very devious. Such a combination as that shouldn't go, but strangely, he managed to make them work for him. I can remember spending a week hauling stupid guards from where they had gotten lost by falling for one of his tricks. I mean, really, they got lost in their own homes. Dis, ah, our Dis. Never one to suffer fools happily, she had a mean temper as a child, and merely steered it to being the most feared dwarrow-dam in our home as she grew. If people avoided upsetting Skena for her temper, then they avoided upsetting Dis for her love of revenge." Balin let himself give a theatrical shudder. "Now, on to the juicy stuff. My brother Dwalin and Thorin would forever run off when they were on tours of the mines, steal foods from the kitchens before feasts, or set traps for unsuspecting guests of the kingdom. When Dis joined in, I stood no chance, and that was why the three of them were allowed to choose their weapons early. Dwalin rose to be one of the royal guards before he came of age, Thorin was never beaten in a match, and Dis. Well, Dis was a natural with a bow. Even if she could disarm anyone with a sword, she would always go back to that damn bow."

Smiling wryly, Balin coughed slightly, and shook the Company out of their shock at his honest talking. They listened as carefully as Estel to his tale. "You're a bit young to know this, lad, but when dwarves fall in love, they fall hard. Well, Dis and Vili fell for each other, made a right scene when he proposed to her as well. Thanks to their union, I gained two nephews, and there you see them." Balin waved a lazy hand at Kili and Fili.

"My youngest you have met, and he takes after both his parents for his choice of weapons, my Vili for his height, and Dis for his looks. Fili, however, looks almost the spitting image of his father, but he has his mother's eyes and her sword arm, well, in his case, arms. He fights both left and right handed. They are devil spawn, I tell you. So full of mischief and pranks as you wouldn't believe. Guess who I got lumbered with to teach. But I am getting ahead of myself." Shaking his head Balin fluffed his hair off his fore head and thought for a second.

Balin smiled again, "We gained Healer Oin," he pointed to the grey haired dwarf, who gave no sign of hearing him, "Through his union with my sister. And through Oin, we gained Gloin," the red haired dwarf waved cheerfully, "And his wife and son. I met Master Nori," here the thief narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at the human child, who laughed delightedly, "Through Dwalin and his involvement in the guard. Trouble maker though the lad turned out."

Balin forced himself to stay calm and not go into details for the next bit. "Then our home was attacked, and we were driven from it. We wandered the wilds for many years, with no place to call home. Yet no sooner than we had settled in somewhere we were willing to try and make a new home, our king wished to have better for our children. We marched to war, and lost a great many dwarves in the attempt, including our king. Since then, I have been a teacher, a friend, an advisor, and a diplomat."

Balin grinned, and Estel leant in, "I met young Ori by accident, and he became a scribe under my tutelage. He is very good. Dori, I met through Ori, but had become aware of him when we wandered," Dori offered a short bow, and Balin smiled, "My apologies to the Ur family, but I didn't get to meet them until about three years ago. These are Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur." The three waved, and Bifur laughed at the wide eyed look that was sent to his axe. Balin smiled, "Well, lad, suffice to say we all have stories. Even the youngest member of our Company, one Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, who is also behind that door, sleeping late."

Estel turned to the dwarf beside him, and smiled widely, "Can you teach me, Master Balin?"

"How to spin a tale? I can try, but didn't you want to know why my hair was white?" Balin grinned smugly as the child and his elven brothers turned to him in shock, having forgotten the question.

"Yes I did. I do not know anyone whose hair is white, Master Balin."

The lad's voice was innocent, and Balin laughed again. "Dis pulled a prank on me one year, and I woke up to a head full of white hair and this rather charming beard."

Elladan was the first to break the silence, "You mean you told us a very condensed version of your history, making us think it was because of your younger kin and what happened to your home, when it was because of a prank your younger cousin played on you?"

"Breath, Master Elf," chuckled Balin, "Yes. I wanted to see if any of you had ever been taught history the proper way, and I have to say I am disappointed."

Elrohir snaffled his little brother back and sat down with a huff, "So am I. I hated history."

Silence followed his announcement, and it was into this silence Bilbo's voice echoed. "Dwalin, there is a kit in the common room."

Bilbo's words broke the thread of tension running through the room, and Fili grinned widely at the rumpled looking human child in their quarters. "Brother, you have a strange habit of befriending everyone."

Kili laughed as slowly, the Company shook off their stupor, and went about their morning routines. Estel watched them all with wide eyes, and he smiled at the thought they could make at least one human like them.

Dwalin had wandered up behind Bilbo, hastily tucking his shirt into his trousers as he went. Wrapping his arms around Bilbo's waist, he rested his head on the hobbit's shoulder, and peered into the communal area. "So there is, Bilbo," he nuzzled at the curls that were still wild from sleep and their activities the night before, "Why is there a child, let alone a human child, in our quarters?"

Bilbo laughed, "How would I know?" He turned in Dwalin's arms and dropped a kiss to his nose. "Should we go and say hello?"

Dwalin nodded eagerly, and the pair crossed the room, oblivious to the smirks thrown at them by Gloin and Bombur. Bilbo smiled down at the human, who scrambled quickly to his feet, as Dwalin nodded politely to the elven twins who were still sitting and apparently sulking.

"You are Bilbo Baggins and Dwalin?" There was curiosity in the young voice, and Bilbo blinked to find himself on eye level with a child.

"Aye, lad, I am Bilbo Baggins, and this here is Dwalin," He tilted his head, "As you have quite clearly guessed. Can I ask how you know our names, young master?"

"Mister Balin told us that his brother Dwalin and Bilbo Baggins of the Shire were still asleep behind that door." Estel grinned widely, "I don't think he likes you sleeping in."

Dwalin laughed, and wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulder, "That's only because I used to wake him up at the crack of dawn when we were younger, young one. May I enquire as to your name?"

A blush stole up the child's chubby cheeks, "Oops, my name is Estel, Master Dwalin."

"Well met then, Master Estel." Dwalin glanced at a sniggering Elladan, "Are these two your older brothers?"

"Yep."

Elladan pushed to his feet, "He was escaping from Lindir, Master Dwalin, and I suppose I should get him out of your hair."

Dwalin frowned at the tall elf, "Well, Lindir sounds stuffy, and the lad is doing no harm. Most of the Company seem taken with him." He forced himself to smile at the standing elf, "I tell you what, why don't you go tell this Lindir the child is safe, and we will feed him. I am sure your brother can stop any harm befalling him."

So it was Dwalin Fundinson found himself being hugged by a human child, and being laughed at by his nephews, brother, and cousins as one of the elf twins smiled happily at him and the other one walked away with a large sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Reviews are always welcome. On another note, I believe Aragorn would have been around the age of ten(ish) when the Company was at Rivendell. So if my maths is right, we have a young human meeting dwarves and a hobbit for the very first time in his young life.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> (Sindarin to English).
> 
> Gwedeir – Brothers (normally those not kin, but sworn, i.e. Shieldbrothers, brothers-in-arms, or in Estel's case, those he had grown up with, but knows they cannot be related as his father is not Elrond and their mother is not Gilraen. )
> 
> Man? – What?
> 
> Glân galu tithing gwador. – Bright blessings little brother. (Again see notes on Gwedeir for usage of this noun rather than hawn, which means little brother by blood).
> 
> Tola –come.
> 
> Man na rhoeg? – What is wrong?
> 
> Annúnaid-The "Westron" language.
> 
> (Khazdul to English).
> 
> Kajul – Elder (Ori throws Estel a lie as he realises at the last minute he cannot teach the youngster his language without the blessing of a king.)


	51. Chapter 52 - A Learning Curve.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elladan runs interference for Estel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to my Beta Musume_no_Suoh, who really is an angel and saves you from my horrendous spelling and grammar.
> 
> With thanks to FanFiction Queen, who made sure my Sindarin worked.

_Chapter Fifty Two – A Learning Curve._

Bilbo crept away while Dwalin was occupied with showing the human child some fencing moves, using his nephews to illustrate the point. It was the perfect time for him to finish the gift he had been creating in return for Dwalin’s courting bead. He slipped into the ladies quarters at Rivendell, and was greeted amicably by the several ladies lounging around the halls. Strangely, they saw him as little threat, and after he had explained the bead at the hollow of his throat and his intentions for being there, he had been welcomed with open arms. 

He settled by the table he had been allowed to work at, and delicately unrolled the unfinished garment from its protective fabric. He eyed the work carefully, and thought back to when he had found the material, to say he had been surprised to find clearly dwarven material in Rivendell had been an understatement, but he had claimed it joyously, and was allowed to use the whole batch in return for the recipe of his mother’s sweet potatoes. The heavy, but beautiful, damask silk was in a deep rich green, and had formed the design of a hobbit’s waistcoat without fault; he had respected Dwalin’s colour choice, and lined it with a hobbitish taffeta of emerald green stripped black. Now that he had an afternoon to himself, he intended to finish the embroidery, add the pockets and buttons, which he had carved himself into decorative leaves of Serpentine Tiger’s Eye that he had found while wandering the gardens of the Last Welcoming House. Humming a happy tune to himself, he set about his self-appointed task, relishing in the warm sunlight and gentle breeze he could feel, he doubted he would be missed until dinner that evening.

 

The dwarrows of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield were strangely happy to be spending their late morning and breakfast with the unusual human child and one of the elven twins. Thorin shook his head as he watched Bifur and Dwalin draw the human child, almost the same height as them, into a gentle (by dwarven standards) game of wrestling, with Ori and Kili cheering the child on.

Bombur had once again claimed the attention of Elrohir, and Thorin found his eyes drawn to where the elf was clearly teaching the cook something, he narrowed his eyes as he examined their interactions, and relaxed when he found no hint of pity or condescension in the taller being. Satisfied, he allowed himself to look over the rest of his dwarves.

Nori was sharpening his blades, for once seeming to relax in Gloin’s company as the accountant dwarf bantered about the best way to truly sharpen a blade and showed true delight in the crafting that had created Nori’s own daggers.

Oin was lying on his front beside his brother, cheerfully ignoring the discussion going on beside him and alternating his attention between the wrestling match occurring in the centre of the room and a large book in front of him. 

Over on the far side of the indoor terrace, Dori was seated by Balin, the two discussing something with such similar looks of innocence that he shivered slightly, he knew the diplomat well enough to know innocent was not his default emotion. Dori was still relatively unknown to him, despite the eldest Ri’s protective nature, good singing voice, and love of tea, and so the fact his expression mirrored Balin’s exactly was a worry. He huffed a sigh, thinking it was maybe payback from the times he had stressed Balin out, or the many times Dori had come between the youngest two heirs of Durin and harm.

Unaware of Thorin’s spiral of thoughts, Dori and Balin were actually discussing knitting patterns and the different uses of Melton and Loden wool. Both were keeping their faces blank in the hopes the other would slip somewhere, and while Dori was confident about his knowledge, he knew better than to underestimate the old diplomat that was Balin. Deciding to up the ante, Dori broke his innocent expression with a smirk and brought Merino wool into the discussion. Fighting back a larger smirk as Balin had to pause to gather together his own knowledge of the wool, Dori fingered the carmine wool he had stuffed behind the cushion as he had sat beside the white haired dwarf. His hazel eyes sparkled as Balin mumbled something that was unrelated to the topic of conversation, and he raised a careful eyebrow as the older dwarf huffed and gave up. He certainly hadn’t expected to win their second round so easily, but he supposed he should be thankful Balin had brought up something that was his third passion in life. Making up his mind in a split second, Dori pulled the carmine wool from where he had been hiding it and in a practised move, draped it around Balin’s neck. Smiling at the shocked look his conversation partner now supported, Dori pushed to his feet as he realised the time.

Clapping his hands, he seamlessly managed to draw all attention to him as he walked away from Balin, “Now, I know everyone is having fun, but what do you all say to a bite of lunch?”

%

While his brothers were enjoying their time with the dwarves, Elladan was trying to convince Lindir to leave well enough alone. So far, he had managed to distract the elf eight times, and had physically dragged him down to a different area of Rivendell three times, and he was ready to admit defeat. The minstrel was as stubborn as a warg with a scent, and Elladan would readily admit his intellect was running out of ideas as to how to give Estel some much needed freedom. 

When it hit him, he nearly slapped his own head, stopping himself just before he did so, and spinning to pull a striding Lindir to a stop. “Lindir, daro!” he panted out, “Lasta enni. Ha innas na maer celu od ist an Estel.” When Lindir’s face turned contemplative, Elladan huffed a relieved sigh, even as he muttered under his breath, “Na lín galw Illuvatar, anno enni belt!”

Lindir nodded after thinking it over, “Bo neth dol na ha.” Elladan sank against the wall behind him with a muttered oath as the minstrel swept into the library quarters, and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. Elrohir owed him for this. Now though, he needed several moments of stillness, and wasn’t that a strange thought for him?

%

After a lunch of ham sandwiches and mugs of Dori’s own special brew, Dwalin left the Company in search of his hobbit, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

Elrohir had dragged Thorin and Estel into his lessons with Bombur, and the red haired dwarf had smiled warmly as the child managed to explain away the struggle he had been having with the placement of certain words. Thorin leant against Elrohir’s side as they watched Bombur engage with the young one and the brilliant smiles the child gave in response.

Fili and Bofur managed to disappear off with their carving, while Ori and Kili smuggled Bilbo’s careful notes out to the garden they had claimed as theirs to read further. Nori managed to goad Bifur into another sparring session, and they dragged a protesting Gloin and Oin along with them.

Left alone, Balin stared at the back of the dwarf who had beaten him hands down at his own game, and then rewarded him for losing it. The sweater Dori had knitted him was the exact same shade as his robe and decorated with detailed moss stitch and his own family’s patterns around the hem. The jumper itself was rather light, and he suspected it would fit his form perfectly. The thought of Dori knowing his exact measurements brought a blush to his cheeks and a smile to his face as he pulled the gift over his head and buried his nose in the still hot Lime flower tea he had been poured at the end of their quick meal. Dori was indeed a puzzle that he would take great delight in unravelling, he just hoped he could win one of their verbal games.

%

Bilbo stretched, laying down the garment he had just finished the final stitch of embroidery in. Cracking his fingers and neck, he snickered at the winces from the few ladies still in the room, and stood with alacrity. Sweeping up his now finished work, he left the room with a deep bow of thanks.

He gently folded Dwalin’s gift as he walked so the embroidered pocket was face up and the buttons carefully protected by the cloth. He was nervous about presenting what was a very hobbitish gift to his dwarf, and hoped it would be received in the intention he had intended it. As he stopped outside the communal area of the wing the dwarves had been gifted for their stay, he realised he had missed Dwalin, and huffed as his nerves crested. Shaking himself, he frowned slightly, the nerves would never do, and as he touched the bead that hung in the hollow of his throat, he straightened his shoulders and walked into his room. Deciding he couldn’t cart the waistcoat all around Rivendell, he wrapped it carefully in his (now cleaned) spare leather, and set about sorting his pack out. After all, he knew they would be leaving soon, even if the rest of the Company hadn’t been informed yet.

After carefully hiding the leather wrapped package, and satisfied he had packed what he could for now, Bilbo stepped from the bedroom, and headed for Thorin.

“Master Oakenshield?”

Startled blue eyes met his as the dwarf subtly moved away from where he had been leaning on the elf, El-something or other Bilbo thought, before paying attention to the now talking dwarf in front of him. “What can I help you with, Master Hobbit?”

Bilbo eyed the crown prince and raised an eyebrow at the almost polite tone in his voice, momentarily distracted with the idea of asking the elf to come with them to keep the dwarf in line, he smiled widely. “Ah, I was just wondering if you had seen Dwalin or Nori, Master Oakenshield. I am keen for another lesson with my blade.” He gestured at the elven dagger attached to his hip as he talked, and found the elf smiling back at him.

Thorin frowned as he thought, and Bilbo watched as he unconsciously leant against the elf again. “I believe Dwalin left to look for yourself, Master Hobbit, where he currently is, I have no idea, but Nori and Bifur dragged Gloin and his brother to the training area.”

Bilbo bowed shortly, “Thank you, most helpful.” A thought struck him, and he turned to the elf, “Why have we never seen any of your kin there, Master Elf?”

Elrohir smiled widely again, “We have been practising for a few hundred years, little one. A few days with no practice will not harm us.”

Bilbo snorted, “I wasn’t talking just about Lord Elrond and yourself, Master Elf, I meant the rest of the elves here.”

Elrohir’s smile dropped, “We have few warrior’s left, little one, and those who are fighters find they tire of sparring against the same opponents time and again.” Bilbo waited as the elf found his words, “I suppose the rest are where Elladan and myself would be if we were not enjoying the new company that graces our home.”

Thorin broke into their conversation as interest caught him, “And where would that be, Master Elrohir?”

The elf laughed, a sound similar to bells tolling in the distance, and looked directly at Thorin, “Why, out hunting Orc, Master Oakenshield.”

Bilbo watched the two interact for several long moments, before moving away to find Nori and Bifur. After all, if the dwarf was letting him court Dwalin as he would, then it was not up to him to judge the new friendship the king in exile was developing.

He found only Bifur and Nori in the training area and watched them spar for several long moments, before clearing his throat to announce his presence. Bifur greeted him with a wide smile and Nori forwent greetings to drag him to the centre of the fenced area. Bilbo recognised the worry in the thief’s eyes as similar to what Dwalin had expressed the previous day, and sighed huffily.

“I am not aiming to rush into things and get myself killed, Nori Rison.” He snapped as he shrugged out of his waistcoat and dropped back into a fighting stance. Silence fell behind them as Bifur stopped his humming to watch, and Bilbo glowered angrily at a now livid Nori. “Do you really think I would make you watch someone else die if I can prevent it you Muzkhgrum? Leib thrag do …”

Nori cut across him, getting right into his face and practically snarling, “Ai leib doh, ohr thrag! Ut zazag utz vel utz dammaz!”

Bilbo whitened as he realised Nori still thought he was not to be trusted, “Ut abb do rorkaz den Skilami Nori?”

Nori snarled again, “Ohr nai kannag leib hurtag!”

Bilbo gasped and relaxed, drawing a struggling Nori into the circle of his arms. “Oh Nori.” He felt Bifur join them, the toy maker’s arms strong against both their shoulders and he allowed himself to sag slightly, “Nai Ohr leib.”

They stood like that for several long moments, before Bifur drew Bilbo off to allow Nori time to collect himself and give the hobbit a chance to practice against someone new. The toy maker was surprised when Bilbo didn’t hold back, and even more surprised when he realised, trained or not, the hobbit was a natural at dodging and moving to confuse his opponent.

When Nori joined them, Bilbo slid the blade into its sheath and beckoned with his left hand. The thief gave a whoop of delight and threw himself into hand to hand combat.

%

Dwalin was the first of the missing members of the Company to arrive back, and the scowl on his face sent a shiver down Thorin’s back. Yet even as he unconsciously shifted to get between his friend and the elf, Dwalin’s face softened, and he followed the warrior’s gaze to where Estel was sleeping, buried against Bombur’s side. Smiling softly himself, he nudged Elrohir, and once he had the elf’s attention, pointed at the sleeping human. Rolling his eyes, Elrohir stood gracefully and swooped to pick his little brother up in his arms. Careful not to overly jostle the human child, who wrapped his legs and arms around the warmth of his brother, the elf bowed slightly and left the dwarves with a soft “goodnight.”

Before Thorin could ask what was wrong, Fili bounced into the area with a smile on his face and laughter falling from his lips. Thorin felt his mouth drop as he realised his blonde heir was wearing Bofur’s hat, and before he had time to ponder why, the miner had caught up and tackled Fili with a laughing yell. As they wrestled on the floor, they offered enough distraction that a blushing Kili managed to slip into his room, shortly followed by a grinning Ori.

By the time they were joined by a grumbling Gloin and Oin, Thorin had noticed Balin’s jumper, as Dwalin had loudly drawn attention to it, and was even praising Dori’s work fervently. Balin flushed again, and swatted at his brother’s hands, although he did throw the tea merchant a wide smile and mouthed thank you. Dori’s grin, Thorin noticed, made him look several decades younger, and he felt a finger of dread as he realised he may have finally discovered just where Nori learnt some of his tricks.

As if Thorin’s thoughts had summoned him, Nori’s voice wafted over the gathering. “Well, Dori, looks like you have been rumbled.”

Dori merely grinned and dragged his eyes over his brother’s dusty and messy form, “Looks like you got your arse handed to you on a platter.”

Bifur’s delighted laughter rang out as Nori grinned back, “Now stop that, brother, you will make our Crown Prince faint.” Dori shook his head and Nori’s grin widened, “As to an answer to your comment, I think we definitely need to have a distraction.”

Dori caught on immediately, and his eyes flew to where Bilbo was standing silently behind Dwalin, before he settled them on Nori’s brilliant green ones, and smirked evilly. “Oh, I am way ahead of you, brother.”

Gandalf had the misfortune of walking onto the terrace in time to hear Bilbo’s answering quip, “I do believe you have both achieved the impossible, and made Master Oakenshield faint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations.  
> (Sindarin to English).  
> Lindir, daro! – Lindir, stop!  
> Lasta enni – Listen to me.  
> Ha innas na maer celu od ist an Estel. - It will be a good source of knowledge for Estel.  
> Na lín galw Ilúvatar, anno enni belt!– By thy blessing Ilúvatar (Eru), give me strength!  
> Bo neth dol na ha– On young heads be it.
> 
> (Khudzul to English).  
> Muzkhgrum – Blast furnace slag, also used as an insult.  
> Leib thrag do … – you dare to …  
> Ai leib doh, ohr thrag!–Yes you fool, I dare!  
> Ut zazag utz vel utz dammaz!- We remember our history and our losses!  
> Ut abb do Rorkaz den Skilami Nori? – We’re to have informal shouting contest Master Nori?  
> Ohr nai kannag leib hurtag!– I do not wish/see you hurt!  
> Nai ohr leib. – Nor I you.
> 
>  
> 
> *LODEN WOOL  
> Loden wool originated in the Tyrolean Alps in the 16th century, and is still highly popular among sportsmen. Loden is characterized by a slightly 'greasy' feeling, and is frequently used to make heavy coats. Loden's luxurious nap is combed downward, creating a shingle effect that sheds water very effectively.
> 
> *MELTON WOOL  
> Melton wool fibers are thick with a smooth exterior surface. Due to the finishing processes that completely conceals the weave, this type of wool makes very solid cloth. Melton wool is durable, water-resistant, and wind resistant. The thickest weights of Melton wool are often used to make heavy outerwear, including jackets and wool pants. Thinner weights are used to make sweaters and socks. 
> 
> *MERINO  
> Cultivated from merino sheep, this type of wool has superior shine, incredible softness, and great breathability, along with an excellent warmth-to-weight ratio. Merino has a nearly pure white color that accepts dye very well. It’s also very strong, naturally elastic, and soft against the skin. Merino wool doesn’t have the coarse, itchy feel of standard wool because merino fibers are much finer than standard sheep’s wool.  
> The vast majority of merino sheep are raised in the mountainous regions of Australia and New Zealand. Today, there are more than ten different varieties of merino sheep worldwide. Some well-known breeds include Australian, Peppin, Saxony, Rambouillet, Vermont, and South African.


	52. Chapter 53 - Something to Believe in.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,  
> Love like you'll never be hurt,  
> Sing like there's nobody listening,  
> And live like it's heaven on earth."  
> ― William W. Purkey
> 
> With thanks to my Beta Musume_no_Suoh, who really is an angel and saves you from my horrendous spelling and grammar.
> 
> Warning: food porn.
> 
> Warning: The talk.
> 
> Warning: Revealing of a dwarf's past.

_Chapter Fifty Three – Something to Believe in. ___

_Bilbo Baggins, heir to Bag End and hobbit of the Shire, ran a hand through his now thoroughly mussed up hair. He hadn't realised his interest in dwarves would hit such a dead end so early on. For two years he had scoured the stalls of the book and tat vendors of Bree and the Shire. All that had gained him was a headache and a dislike of haggling. Finally, he had something he could use, and it was nothing more than a book written for the children of dwarves, teaching them to read and write. If he hadn't found the slim volume, he would have given up on his research altogether, and while his find had dismayed his father, his mother had grinned, and provided him with a journal that she instructed him to keep in the new language he had discovered. Suddenly, he grinned as he realised what a treasure his new find really was. Dwarves were secretive, that was a fact known by even the most hobbit-y of hobbits, if he studied diligently, he now had a way to read most of the scripts and books that vendors sold as illegible tat. He knew at least three vendors in Bree had books with these runes on their spines, this tiny instruction book would open worlds to him. Now, that symbol there meant the number one. When Belladonna went to call her young son to lunch, she found him immersed in carefully tracing words onto the parchment in front of him and a wide smile on his face. ___

%

After calming Gandalf down and waking Thorin by dint of slapping the king-in-exile's cheek, Bilbo walked into the kitchen to prepare the Company a late supper, slapping Dori and Nori softly around the head as he passed. It was only when he reached the kitchen that he realised what he had done, and turned with an apology ready on his tongue, bumping into Ori, who was a single step behind him. The young dwarf dragged him physically into the kitchen and shut the door. Bilbo looked into the grinning face and sparkling eyes of the dwarf he had declared himself protector of, and sagged against a counter, "Oh, thank Mahal and Yavanna."

Ori's bright laugh filled the room, and he pulled Bilbo into a massive hug. "You're family now, and you are never getting away." He softened, "Thank you."

"Bah," Bilbo grunted feeling embarrassed, and reeling from the fact a dwarf had voluntarily hugged him without hesitating. That the dwarf in question was Ori, made a huge smile spread across his face and a warm feeling settle in his chest. He laughed lightly, and gestured around the kitchen, "Shall we?"

Ori's delighted nod meant they settled into a now familiar routine, and the Company members glanced at the door as strains of song and laughter floated through it. Thorin glanced in dismay at Dori as a rather rude line reached them, quite clearly being sung by young Ori, and flinched when the grey-haired dwarf merely smiled serenely and settled back with his knitting by a peaceful looking Balin.

In what seemed like no time, supper had been served up, and the Company dragged Gandalf to the table, happy to have the wizard eat with them. The food before them smelled wonderful, and there was enough that everybody's tastes were satisfied.

Thorin hummed as he hoarded the peach and custard tarts, this was one recipe he didn't know, and he made a mental note to get it from the hobbit if they ever reclaimed his home.

Fíli was sharing a bowl of strawberries, honey, and cream with Bofur, coaxing the miner to take the fruit from his fingers. At the jolt his stomach made when a warm tongue licked the digits, he rethought that plan, making a mental note to ask Bilbo why that had happened later.

Kíli watched his brother with wide eyes as he tucked into the mint-glazed lamb cutlets, salad, potatoes, and griddled asparagus. Ori was tucked against his side, occasionally snaffling a potato from his plate, despite claiming he had nibbled too much making the food.

Bifur was laughing at Nori's disgusted expression as he tucked into a balsamic drizzled blood-orange and fennel salad, while the thief was eating roasted potato sticks and spicy-flamed chicken, getting revenge on the toy maker by threatening to wipe greasy fingers on him.

Dori sighed indulgently as he sipped at a red-berry tea and daintily nibbled at elderflower and gin flavoured shortbreads, making liberal use of the bowl of elderberry preserve that had magically appeared.

Gandalf was watching everyone, and wondering just how Bilbo and Ori had magically prepared such a spread, he wasn't complaining as such diligence had allowed them to provide him with a mint flavoured mead and a bowl of chopped pineapple, melon, and passion fruit. 

Glóin was making complimentary noises as he dug into a plate of thinly sliced salted beef, liberally flavoured with mustard and sliced gherkins.

Óin was enjoying a pork tenderloin with balsamic onion and fig relish, while Balin was attempting a spiced chicken dish that came with rice and reminded him of the one Bilbo had served their first night at Bag End. 

Bombur was savouring the dish he had chosen, while he knew he should probably share, the thought of giving up the burnt orange chocolate mousse made him rather teary eyed.

Full and satisfied at the end of the repast, the Company split into different groups. Bilbo found himself confronted with Fíli and dragged away before he could fully remove himself from Dwalin's lap.

Devoid of his companion, Dwalin settled with Óin, Glóin, and Bombur, somehow finding himself telling the trio of older dwarves just what had happened when he arrived at Bag End. 

Thorin pulled Gandalf to a couple of chairs to talk, and they shared a pipe as the dwarf described the visit by young Estel. 

Bofur, abandoned by a flushed looking Fíli, was joined on the floor by Bifur and Nori, who slowly dragged him into a game of marbles. 

Dori had retreated to his room to grab an early night, leaving Balin to talk with Ori and Kíli, who were questioning the diplomat on what he could remember of the ancient history of Khazad-dûm.

While the Company settled in the common area, Bilbo found himself dragged out into the gardens by an embarrassed looking Fíli. Finally deciding he was bored of being dragged through the pathways, he simply pulled to a stop and planted his feet. Surprised, Fíli staggered backward, and turned to him with wild eyes. "Now, while I appreciate that you trust me enough to tell me a secret, lad, why didn't you just ask, rather than drag me out?"

Wide blue eyes stared at him, "Sorry, Uncle Bilbo."

"Now, none of that, lad. What's wrong, Fíli?"

The flush was back, and Bilbo edged the blonde dwarf to a bench while he let the broader male make his mind up. Seating them comfortably, Bilbo waited in silence for Fíli to start talking, and to his surprise, the technique worked.

"I've found my One, Uncle Bilbo." Bilbo looked over the regular braids the prince sported, and the worried expression on the Durin's face, settling for silence again as Fíli kept talking, "We haven't put braids, or even exchanged courting gifts, as I am still trying to convince him that we can court and our differences don't matter. He keeps putting himself down, and it hurts when he does so. I don't care that he is a miner at heart, that he now makes toys for a living. Hell, I have even less to offer him. I mean, I am an heir to a kingdom lost to a bloody dragon, and I have no true skills. Barely trained at the forge, and a warrior through necessity not heart, what exactly can I offer him?"

Bilbo smiled wryly, and understood just how young the dwarf beside him really was. In years, he might be decades away from the blonde, but even with his experiences, Fíli had just barely turned adult.

"Fíli," he sighed softly, breaking into the ramblings, "I shouldn't tell you this, but I once asked Bofur what he saw you as. Do you know what he told me?" Fíli's eyes flew wide, and Bilbo smiled gently, "He told me, 'I see him as friend, a very good friend. I see him as a great dwarf, he is someone I could happily call king if I had to. He has a kindness in him, a lightness that many dwarves are missing now. He is a quick learner, and good with his hands.' "

Bilbo squeezed Fíli's captured fingers, "Do you know what that means Fíli? It means he loves you for you, he sees you. He doesn't want a prince, a blacksmith, a jeweller, a warrior. He wants you, and you alone. It isn't that he doesn't see himself equal to the prince, it is that he sees you as a jewel beyond measure. To Bofur, you are his Arkenstone. He was willing to teach you so you could gain your one, he befriended you, despite your differences, and he let you see him fall apart. That should tell you he is serious about him being in your life no matter what, you held him as he fell apart and he let you put him back together, and…"

"For a dwarf that is unheard of, but for a bonded couple." Fíli's voice finished the sentence, and this time he was calm. "I'm sorry about that. The ramble-rant thing wasn't actually what I wanted to talk about." He flushed lightly, "I supposed I could ask Bombur or Glóin this, but I am more comfortable asking you." He took a deep breath, and before Bilbo could blink, was talking again, "When-Bofur-took-the-strawberry-from-my-fingers-my-stomach-did-a-sort-of-flip-and-I-found-it-hard-to-breath."

Bilbo blinked as he peeled apart the rapid fire words, "Oh! Right!" Taking a deep breath, he stared at the statue he could see at the end of the path, "Fíli, do dwarves have lessons about what should go on when you claim your Ones?" At the confused look, he grumbled under his breath, and then sighed, "Should have known, Dwalin only mentioned courting. What you felt was probably lust. Tell me I don't have to explain lust to you."

"Erm, no, I have heard of the theory. Why would I feel that when Bofur licked my finger though?"

"Oh, Yavanna..., what have I done to have to have this talk?" Bilbo let go of Fíli's hand, ignoring the hurt sound the blonde released. 

"Right. I am assuming that despite courting rules you have kissed, held hands, hugged?" The dwarf beside him nodded. "Don't have to cover that then. Good. Right now, I am going to tell you what I was told, and I really hope you can make it so it fits your race, as my brain is not liking this situation." Fíli nodded again, and Bilbo ploughed on, diverting his gaze from what he realised was the statue of a naked female.

"Right, then, as the responsible adult, it is my job to talk about this, and while it may be embarrassing, I suppose you need to know these things. When you are attracted to someone, your body sends you signs, these can be anything from blushing, to a feeling of a fluttery stomach, to sweaty palms, and since you are male, an erection. As you mature, I suspect you will try masturbation before you try having sex. Masturbation is the idea of gaining sexual pleasure from yourself, while sex tends to be sharing that pleasure with others. When you start to experiment with others, you will probably go no further than kissing for the first few times, however, this is not all there is. When you engage in sexual intercourse with another, there are the mechanics to consider, and the thought of a child if it is a female you fall for. Now, I know you will have some questions, so I suggest you read one of the many books available on the subject."

Bilbo drew a deep breath, and wondered why it was so hard to simply talk about something so every day. "While I understand dwarves aren't like hobbits, does that help at all Fíli?"

Fíli felt that he could out colour a tomato at the moment and what little Bilbo said made sense to him, but, "Where on earth do you get books on these things?"

"Oh, Yavanna." Bilbo rubbed his face. "I'll get one from the library here for you, can we say this talk is finished now?"

Fíli laughed loudly, suddenly relieved he had been acting normally in Bilbo's mind anyway. "Yes, please, and thank you."

"Don't mention it. No, really, Fíli, don't mention it. Yavanna have mercy, when I find that book, read it all, and make the others do so as well."

"Thanks, Uncle Bilbo," Fíli ran back to the Company, determined to blame his flush on the running he was now doing.

Left alone in the dark, Bilbo groaned in embarrassment, "Well, now I feel like an ass for all the questions I asked Dad." Huffing, he pushed to his feet and made his way to the library, once there he managed to skilfully skirt the ever present guardian, and made short work of finding the volume he wanted. Hopefully, the dwarves reading this would mean he would get no more questions. Forcing his blush down as he walked the quiet corridors back to the Company, Bilbo sighed as he realised he still hadn't given Dwalin his courting gift. He would have to correct that tonight.

Fíli was easy for him to find, especially considering the blonde was curled in a chair peering out into the gardens. Smiling softly, Bilbo ruffled his hair and dropped the book into his lap, before flopping across Dwalin's lap and buried his head in the warrior's chest. He found that Fíli's questions, despite being embarrassing, had focused his mind on why he had been so determined to join the company of dwarves in the first place. Dwalin's fingers through his hair were soothing, and he found himself nearly dozing as he watched Fíli with hazy eyes. The colours the lad was turning were amusing, and had drawn Kíli's attention. Yawning Bilbo snuggled closer to Dwalin and shut his eyes, determined not to move until Dwalin was ready to head to sleep.

Thorin's outburst at Gandalf put paid to that though, and Bilbo jolted awake just as a furious, "My business is my own, as is my history!" echoed through the rooms.

Bilbo looked at Dwalin and brushed a kiss to his lips as he stood, "No, you stay here, I think it is time I had a talk with Thorin anyway. That guilt and grief he is carrying cannot be good for anyone."

Surprisingly Dwalin listened, as did the rest of the Company, Bifur and Nori even going as far as to comfort the wizard. Bilbo slipped into the dark gardens, wondering just why Mahal would allow his own children to be hurt in such a manner. Thorin was surprisingly easy to find, and Bilbo sighed softly, before moving to join the dwarf at the edge of one of the fish ponds in the gardens of Rivendell. Deciding it was up to the dwarf to speak, he merely stared into the water, trailing his fingers and letting the fish suck at them. The night was soothing, and if it weren't for the obviously broken king-in-exile seated beside him, perfectly relaxing.

"Why did you follow me, Master Hobbit?"

Bilbo blinked at the soft tone of voice, he'd expected the other male to rail at him. "Someone had to make sure you weren't going to destroy stuff."

Thorin had expected direct honesty or a pry into his past, and so the flippant reply startled a laugh from him. "I keep underestimating you, Master Hobbit," he admitted, "I would have expected you to demand an explanation from me. You seem to have discovered more about my Company's past than even I know."

"Ah, but Master Oakenshield, I merely asked, and they told me. Apparently they are convinced that I, a simple hobbit from the Shire, will actually be able to protect them."

"The difference between those who have promised them that before and yourself, Master Hobbit, is that I believe, as do they, that you will put yourself between them and any danger they face. By Mordor, you had Dwalin convinced before we even left your home."

"Master Oakenshield," Bilbo felt old, and chewed his lip a moment. "I meant everything I have said to them. No one has the right to hurt a child, and I will give them my protection, for what little good it will do. Even if it just gives them peace of mind. I would die for Dwalin, I would kill for him, and having travelled as much as you have, you will know that for a hobbit, that is no easy vow. Fíli, Kíli, and Ori are dear to me, Fi and Ki even call me uncle, asked if they could call me uncle. If I could go back in time, I would gut every person who raised a hand to them, I would destroy those who denied them food or shelter, who made them afraid. I cannot however, all I can do is be there for them, as damaged as I am. When I lost my parents, I thought my ability to love had died with them, yet a company of dwarrows has brought that ability back tenfold."

Thorin allowed the silence to settle as he thought over the words of the male seated beside him. Even their own kin would never admit to such a thing, and the confession that he would kill for those Thorin held dear, settled the realisation he had been trying to deny. Finally decided, Thorin started to talk, "I was an arrogant sod when I was growing up, Master Hobbit, still am most days, but back them it was an arrogance stemming from pride and vanity. I was heir to a throne, good looking, and skilled with a blade. I was a fool. I had gone hunting alone one day, right up to the bows of the Greenwood, belief in my own immortality undiminished. I found myself under attack, and despite my best attempts, was injured badly. They turned from me before I was dead, and I can remember hearing someone begging me to hold on, through the pain, I thought I was dreaming, and so when I came to in my own bed, chest and right leg bandaged, I pushed it from my mind. I was resigned to bed rest for several weeks, banned from contact with my siblings or my friends, it was when I was defying my mother's orders that I overheard them talking about the injured elf who had brought me back. It was the first blow on my ego, and fractured my pride. If the elf was still injured, then I had put someone else in danger from my stupidity."

He paused collecting his thought. "When I demanded to see my rescuer, my Mother relented, and I was shown into a private healing room. Even though I was exhausted and my right leg was on fire, I found myself standing tall as I thanked her for my very life, and begged her forgiveness for having placed her in such danger due to my stupidity, of course she didn't respond, as she was unconscious. I returned every day while I healed, yet it wasn't until two weeks after my return to normal duties that she finally awoke. I walked into the room one day to find her sitting up in the bed, and frowning at a healer who was refusing to open the curtains. Ignored by both of them, I returned the favour and opened the curtains, letting in the light from several crystals set up to allow the healing wing natural light. The she elf relaxed and the healer turned to shout at me. Deciding after everything she had endured for me I could stand it, I let the healer finish, and politely showed him the door. She laughed at my apologies, and informed me that I owed her no life debt or thanks, as those who had attacked me had been following her. It wasn't until several weeks of conversations and as she was mounting a horse to leave us, that I realised I didn't know her name. Vanya, I retreated to the library, and searched until I found the scrolls on Sindarin, she was literally named beautiful, and it was fitting. With hair of an almost blue-shaded black, skin of the darkest mahogany, and eyes of onyx, she was more beautiful than any Dwarrow-dam I had ever met."

Thorin felt tears on his cheeks and wiped them away. "She stayed close to the mountain, and I became friends with her. She taught me how to track, how to hunt, and how to live without the riches I was used to. I feared telling her that I had fallen for her, she wasn't my One, but I knew I loved her. Three years after I met her, those who had brought us together were finally tracked down by their kin. She told me how she had been kept a slave to one of the kings of the human realms of the south, and I swore they would never hurt her again, even when she tried to disgust me by showing me the grey scars on her skin, I swore I wouldn't leave her. They came one night when she was giving me a lesson in star craft, their blades were coated in poison, and I fought like a beast possessed, yet it wasn't enough. I was knocked unconscious when they realised they would need to remove me to get to her, even a dwarven skull couldn't protect me against a stone from a sling-shot. If I had been any other race, it would have killed me. I remember waking and taring into them with my bare hands. I was too late, and I broke my word to her, yet even as I held her, she named me shield-brother with her dying breath. It took our guards two weeks to find me, and they only did because I had gathered the dead of those who attacked her and burnt them. I was sunburnt and delirious from dehydration, as I had built her a cairn with the stones around the area, carved her a memorial, and then kept the traditional weeks watch of my people." Thorin swallowed, and drew a necklace from under his tunic, "I still carry this with me, the only gift I have received from an outsider that I have cared for. She made it for me, and even Dwalin and Dis do not know whom I received it from."

Bilbo jumped when Thorin stood suddenly, "Thank you, Master Hobbit. It is strange, for years I have jealously guarded her memory, but with you, I find myself happy that someone will know of her even if I die."

Bilbo stood also, and was careful not to make mention of the tears still staining the dwarf's cheeks. "I will honour her memory if you will allow me to, Master Oakenshield." He gripped the dwarf's forearm, "And though you may not believe me, the fact she named you shield-brother, tells me she did not believe you broke faith."

Thorin left with a nod, and spent the remainder of the night wandering the pathways of the gardens, the stars overhead reminding him of Vanya and her lessons. The hobbit was an odd one, and he believed his shield-sister would have adored him, maybe that was truly why he was determined to keep the younger male at arm's length, and yet he had shared her with the hobbit. Told of their past. Perhaps he had a second shield-brother. Far above, a brilliant star caught his eye, and he smiled softly at it, the carved glass leaf at his neck falling from his fingers. "Vanya, forgive me."

Bilbo had slowly sat back down by the pond when Thorin had left. He was conflicted by the information Thorin had shared with him. This Vanya sounded like a brilliant person, and he wondered just why the king-in-exile had chosen him above his dwarven kin to share her memory with. Before he figured that out, he had a promise to keep. Forcing himself to stand, he made his way to the walled garden where the Rose of Sharyn bloomed. When he had enough, he created a wreath of the blooms, careless of the thorns that tore at his skin, carving a smooth bit of willow bark with the name he had been given and a Shire blessing for those who had been torn from them in his own language. Once done, he made his way back to the pond and set the wreath to float on the surface of the water.

The Company were surprised when Bilbo returned alone and with a soft smile. Dwalin was asleep on the couch, and they watched with wide eyes as Bilbo covered him with a blanket before seating himself by Óin. The healer nodded, and shoved a book into Bilbo's arms. No matter how carefully the Company listened, the only words they heard were Óin's "That star there? That is the star of remembrance, Bilbo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that ended up being depressing. I do apologise. Please feel free to leave me a review.
> 
> Tat-I don't know if this is an English or local word so they are similar to white elephant/boot sales.


	53. Chapter 54 - Forever Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Especially for FanFiction_Queen. I am sorry it took so long to update on here my lamb. 
> 
> Bilbo has finally reached his limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I don't own any of The Hobbit characters, I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.
> 
> No beta for this chapter. Any mistakes are my own. Hopefully will have her back for the next one.
> 
> Listening to a bit of RUN-DMC :D. Am on holiday for a week, and my plot bunnies have returned home, so I am in a very good mood.
> 
> I am using the Scottish form of Gaelic for the language of the Shire. I hope this doesn't offend anyone and that I can do such a beautiful language justice.
> 
> Warning: Mentions of Bilbo's religion.
> 
> Warning: Cutting.

Chapter Fifty Four – Forever Young.

_Grandmother Baggins had many names and many faces, even within her closest family circle. This Bilbo had always known, and yet the day he had hidden in her library, after carefully sneaking away from several maiden aunts, had driven home to him just how unique his màthair athar was. Despite having only recently learnt his letters Bilbo knew that the parchment that had fluttered to the floor in front of him was not common knowledge in the Shire. He was so distracted by the story of what had happened many years ago that he failed to hear the library door open and so jumped wildly, upsetting yet more parchment, when his grandmother crawled under the desk with him. From that day forward he had been inseparable from his seanmhair. ___

__%_ _

__Bilbo refused to tell any of his Dwarrow just what Thorin had disclosed to him. He knew the leader still had misgivings about him being anywhere near his people and so he would treat anything the dwarf told his as being in the strictest of confidences. He had first ventured to Óin for a balm to ease the sting of the cuts from the rose thorns and then ended up sticking near the old healer since no questions had been asked. Dwalin had accepted his silence in good form, but the boys were worried about their uncle and he had been unable to shake the attention from the two until Thorin had finally returned and drawn the two off._ _

__Hours later Bilbo looked up from his discussion of healing herbs with Óin to find the three Durins still absent, but the rest of the Company asleep in various positions around the room. Taking note of the late hour the two exchanged humorous looks and Óin apologised, but left claiming the need to sleep._ _

__Instead of taking offence or heading to his own rooms, Bilbo smiled serenely and set about making sure his Dwarrows would be comfortable when they awoke. Thanks to his quick friendship with the ladies of Rivendale the terrace had gained several more blankets and these he tucked carefully around their sleeping forms. Satisfied they would remain asleep Bilbo slipped into his room and from the mess of his belongings withdrew a small leather bag, tied tightly at the neck._ _

__The moon was bright above him as he slipped into the gardens of Rivendale and along the silent and unoccupied paths of the valley. There was an area to the edges of the elven wards, were the river split into two, which would be perfect for his purpose. On silent feet he made the distance in little time. When he arrived a quick search told him the area was clear of anyone who could witness what he was about to do. Mentally he was berating himself for not having made the offerings to the Valar while in the Shire, but then his home had been filled with Dwarrow and had he done so out of season then his neighbours would have asked awkward questions._ _

__Stripping down to his britches rapidly, Bilbo carefully opened the leather bag, sighing in relief when he found everything in it had remained intact._ _

__In the fine sand of the river shore he drew a circle of runes using a bronze blade, in the centre of this circle he placed a runic carved, clear stone and white candle on a flat rock he had found. The stone glowed with the colours of the rainbow where the candle light hit it. As he had no herbs to burn or food to offer Bilbo used his own body in a ritual his Càirneach had taught him was only for prayers of the most importance._ _

__The tiger's eye at his throat glowed under the moonlight as Bilbo offered a prayer of reverence to the Valar. The river water seemed to sparkle as the temperature dropped._ _

__"Cluinn tha impidh Ban-dia Màthair. Cluinn tha impidh Dia an t-Athair." He drew the rune of Yvanna onto his right hand with ink, before shakily doing the same with the unfamiliar rune of Mahal onto his left._ _

__"Beannaich ur n-clann an thaobh às na dachaigh. Thoir dhachaigh sinn." He dropped to his knees and pressed the bronze blade to the Mahal's rune._ _

__"Cobhair orm dìon daoine a tha lag so-leònta! Cobhair orm dìon mo teaghlach!" A drop of blood dropped to the sand at his knees and Bilbo switched the blade to the symbol of Yvanna._ _

__Raising his eyes Bilbo allowed tears to form as he though on everything he had learnt of his Dwarrow's past up until this point. "Ban-dia Yvanna cobhair orm! Chan is air feum iùl."_ _

__The flame on the candle flickered, went out, while the clear stone glowed with an internal light, seeming to have absorbed the candle light. The second drop of Bilbo's blood hit the sand at his knees and he focused on his dwarrow. He found himself unable to speak as tears rolled down his cheeks as he remembered. The scarring on Nori's skin, the terror in Kìli's brown eyes, the lost tone of Fìli's voice, Bofur's tears, Ori's terror at Bag End, Dwalin's explanations, Thorin's admittance, Bifur's promises, Dori's helplessness, Bombur's thanks._ _

__He felt his own anger well as he offered prayers to the father that had deserted his own Clann. The children he had defied The Great Father to create. He felt his own thanks flood through him at Yvanna's aid, even in the darkest of times. The sadness she had shown when the remaining Càirneach had returned to the groves to offer the prayers for the dead._ _

__Focusing on the images flooding through his mind he slowed the torrent to a trickle and offered the bonded pair he prayed to how he felt towards his Dwarrow._ _

__He showed them Kìli's skill with a bow, the mischievous light in the brown eyes. He brought up the memory of being asked if he could be called uncle. The blushes on young cheeks, the laughter at Bag End, the seriousness occasionally shown when the situation needed him to be mature._ _

__He showed them Fìli's determination to learn to carve, the humour in bright blue eyes. The pride at being able to win a match against Dwalin. The protectiveness of everyone he deemed family. How the king shone through his young demeanour, blinding everyone in rare moments._ _

__He focused on sending Mahal the images he had of young Ori. The passion at learning new things, the joy he'd had at learning to cook and the skill he possessed at doing so. The kind face becoming more so when he smiled that smile of his. How the dwarf had claimed him as family. The dry sarcasm the young dwarf possessed._ _

__Yvanna he showed images of Bombur. Of the rotund dwarf's love of food, and abilities in the kitchen. The kind demeanour with a core of steel. The love he had for his family, how he was teaching himself to read and write in the common tongue so he could send them a letter._ _

__He showed them both Nori's wicked smile, and the kindness he kept well hidden. He showed them how a dwarf was fond of a hobbit, shedding a tear at her death. He showed them both the skill with the blade, and the love of books. The tenderness in green eyes when they gazed on Bifur, Ori or Dori._ _

__He showed them Bofur's skill at creating something out of a simple block of wood, the miner's cheery smile and the warmth sparkling in brown eyes. He showed them the dwarf's love of music, his devotion to Fìli even before he had figured out they were One. He recalled the passionate speech given about how he perceived the blonde prince._ _

__He fought to push his anger down again as he showed them how he saw Bifur. The knarled hands easily creating beauty from a block of wood. The dwarf's harsh, but beautiful laughter bubbling as he crossed weapons with Nori. The kind eyes and the hug he had bestowed upon simply being included in a song. The promise of protection and the joy at finding out Bilbo understood him. He sent Yvanna the images of the dwarf merrily eating flowers, and Mahal was shown the skill in which he wielded the boar spear._ _

__He showed them Dori's pride and love for his brothers. How the delicateness in which he drank or discussed tea, contrasted in the strength he showed time and again. How he could go from knitting a beautiful scarf or jumper to a verbal spar with anyone. He showed them the protectiveness and love that simply radiated from this dwarf, how his treasure wasn't gold or gems, but good food, a warm hearth and his family safe._ _

__He found himself smiling as he thought of Balin. The grandfatherly twinkle in shrewd eyes. The strength hidden behind the softest of red velvet. The lack of braid, but proper pride in appearance. The gentleness tinged with humour as he spun a tale for young Estel and the elven twins. The political mind, the love of games and how the dwarf was both a graceful winner and loser. He showed them Balin standing back to back with his oldest nephew, both with twin swords in hand as they faced down a trio of trolls._ _

__Gloin came next and despite Bilbo not knowing this dwarf as well as the rest of his dwarrow he found himself showing the two Valar the fierce love of family. The educated mind and confusing manners. The wide grin the dwarf would bestow on anyone or anything that pleased him. The simple pleasure Gloin found in taking a nap in warm sun light, or the fatherly pride he looked upon most of the Company with by the time they had reached Rivendale._ _

__He showed them Oìn's knowledge of healing, of herb lore. How despite his hearing loss the white haired dwarf had a wicked sense of humour. How the rest of his senses were sharpened. He recalled the gentle conversation only hours before, and the softness in which callused hands had treated his rose damaged fingers. He recalled an image of a fierce warrior protecting his younger brother, spinning to take a hit meant for the youngest prince, before physically removing the youngest Ri from harm's way._ _

__Thorin was harder for him, but he still called the dwarf family despite his prickly exterior and it chaffed that the story Thorin had told him was merely a small portion of the ills suffered by the dwarf. He mentally ask Yvanna for patience as he threw images at Mahal, the blood dripping from his clenched left hand. He showed the Valar Thorin's smile at his nephews, the pride that shone behind blue eyes as the Company grew. He showed him the protectiveness of his people, the willingness to die to protect them. He showed the skill with weapons both elvish and Dwarrow made. The political skill and sharp mind as he exchanged quips with Gandalf and Elrond. He showed the friendship struck up with the elven twins. The love of baking, the flush on bearded cheeks and the humour that changed the harsh lines of his face._ _

__Finally Bilbo called up images of Dwalin, offering apologies to Yvanna for his temper he allowed them both to see the dwarf he had fallen in love with. He showed them the first time he had laid eyes of the warrior, the joy in grey eyes at the idea of a bath, the image of braids being formed in front of him. The two of them just relaxing in Dwalin's room, the dwarf humming a hauntingly beautiful tune, the laughter as they rambled around the Shire, the dwarf haggling for vegetables. He showed them the skill his dwarf had with his weapons and how those weapon hardened hands could be gentle when soothing a skittish pony. He showed them the childish glee at finding out what was in the chest locked away at Bag End. He showed them the protective dwarf, the gentle dwarf, the warrior, the brother, the friend, the uncle and the lover._ _

__When he had finished the blood had dried on his palms and the only light around him was from the clear rock in the rune circle. The moon was close to setting, but the sun had not yet risen, the trees surrounding him taking away the natural light. Silence filled the air until the trees shifted without breeze and the ground shook ever so slightly._ _

__Bilbo kept his eyes focused on the stone glowing softly as he sensed someone walking behind him. "Bilbo Baggins." The voice was deep, like grinding rocks wrapped with velvet. He could smell molten ore and the sharp tang of limestone and chalk._ _

__A tremor ran through him. He had been warned that this ritual was only for pleas of the most importance, he hadn't been warned why, not being high enough on the Càirneach roll before he had been forced to take on other duties._ _

__"Leave him be husband." Bilbo drew in a sharp breath, the voice was distinctly feminine, yet the power in it was that of the storm, of the ancient oak trees in his home land. He could smell a floral scent, yet it was tempered by the scent of deep woodland and rain on a summer evening._ _

__He finally found his voice, "Mo Morair! Mo Leadaidh!" He began, still remaining as still as he could._ _

__"My little one." A gentle touch on his shoulder, as if he had walked under the boughs of a weeping willow._ _

__"Such strength for one who is not of my making." A firmer touch, which left his skin feeling as if he had been in the sun's warmth._ _

__Bilbo swallowed as the more feminine presence stepped back leaving him with the presence of Mahal. Before he could speak the rumbling voice was filling the air._ _

__"You feel deeply for my children small one." A statement not a question and so Bilbo stayed quiet. "You would call on us for aid. You would show me your anger at my treatment of them."_ _

__Bilbo found he suddenly didn't care if he was in the presence of one of the Valar and pushed to his feet. "I bleed freely for them Mo Morair! I would kill for them!" There was a feminine gasp of shock that he was hard pushed to ignore._ _

__Bilbo raised his eyes and found himself peering at what appeared to be a very old dwarf. The power rolling in eyes that forever changed colour made him aware it wasn't. He found his courage as he thought of his dwarrow._ _

__"Yes I would show my anger. You abandoned them. Our mother never once left us, even in our darkest hour we could feel her fighting for us. You made them and you abandoned them. You left them to find darkness again and again. You let them be forced from their homes, not once, but twice. You have let the young be abused, hunger, feel hated and despised simply because they are your children. Yet they have never once turned their backs to you. Have they ever once cursed you? Felt anger at you? It was the mother of my race who saved one of yours from death. One who had done no wrong in his life. And you have the nerve to think I wouldn't show you my anger!"_ _

__Silence fell over them, yet Bilbo didn't have time to feel afraid as his eyes landed on the radiant smile of Yvanna. "It is not so strange that out children would start to care for each other husband. Young Bilbo has a point."_ _

__Bilbo swallowed as her ever changing eyes landed on him. "It was the honesty in his heart that brought us here after all. Yet I doubt he truly needs our aid. Husband?"_ _

__"You speak the truth my love." Mahal's form suddenly shifted and Bilbo found him looking up at a handsome humanoid. Easily standing at eight feet Mahal dwarfed him and yet he struck less fear into Bilbo's heart in this form. "Sleep now small one. You have called my eye to the harm done to my children and I will not let it befall them again."_ _

__Bilbo found his eyes become heavy even as Yvanna's hand closed around the rock, her bare feet scuffing through the runes he had drawn in the sand. "Thank you." He managed to mumble before his body hit the sand silently._ _

__%_ _

__Dawn crept across Rivendale, its pink tinged rays illuminating the tall forms of Gandalf and Elrond where they stood on a balcony. The Istari had retreated to Elrond's quarters after seeing Thorin faint and Bilbo handle the situation. They had been drinking an age old wine when a blast of power had them surging to their feet to freeze on the balcony. The power was benign and yet was no mere maiar. To feel it in Rivendale froze the marrow of their very bones, and yet started their blood pumping more fiercely._ _

__%_ _

__Thorin raised his head from where it hung on his chest. His fingers were curled in the hair of his nephews and his eyes remained closed. A smile twisted his lips as he finally placed the feeling. "Boys."_ _

__They shot awake instantly, their own eyes peering in the darkness as they reached for their weapons. Thorin chuckled low and long._ _

__"Wait." He commanded. "Just feel."_ _

__They settled back against him, feet of all three dangling over the rock edging the waterfall. The air smelt of the forges in Erebor, the air momentarily rang with the sound of hammer and anvil. A strong breeze shifted this away and they found themselves inhaling the smell of rich loamy soil and the sounds of idyllic country life._ _

__When Thorin finally opened his eyes the sun was almost risen and his boys seemed to glow. Brown and blue eyes looked at him and he nodded slowly. "I have been a fool. Apparently you have been right all along about our burglar."_ _

__%_ _

__Bilbo awoke to the sound of whispering, a pounding head and pain in the palms of his hands. The whispering stopped as he sat up slowly. He found himself by the river shore, leather pouch carefully hung from his neck and his clothes still folded neatly. The blood was flaking on his palms and there was no sign of the runic circle he had drawn. If he ever made it back to the Shire he was going to be having strict words with the Càirneach. Groaning he pushed to his feet, wondering how he was going to explain the symbols of Mahal and Yvanna that were neatly carved into his palms to Oìn. A thought hit him. How was he going to explain them to any of the Company? To Dwalin?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Translations (Scottish Gaelic to English):
> 
> màthair athar – paternal grandmother.
> 
> Seanmhair – grandma.
> 
> Càirneach – Druid/priest.
> 
> Cluinn tha impidh Ban-dia Màthair– Hear/Harken my entreaty/prayer mother-goddess.
> 
> Cluinn tha impidh Dia an t-Athair – Hear/Harken my entreaty/prayer father-god.
> 
> Beanaich ur n-clann an thaobh às na dachaigh– Bless your children in their pursuance of their home.
> 
> Thoir dhachaigh sinn – Bring us home.
> 
> Cobhair orm dìon daoine a tha lag so-leònta – help me protect the weak and vulnerable.
> 
> Cobhair orm dìon mo teaghlach – help me protect my family.
> 
> Ban-dia Yvanna cobhair orm– Goddess Yvanna help me.
> 
> Chan is aim feum iùl – I am in need of guidance.
> 
> Clann – children.
> 
> Mo Morair! Mo Leadaidh! – My Lord! My Lady!


	54. Càirneach.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick summary of what has happened before…  
> Bilbo Baggins of the Shire meets a group of dwarves that have been directed to his home by Gandalf. His first introduction is to Dwalin, upon hearing the dwarrow’s story Bilbo swears he will help them to the end of the line, taking the three youngest immediately under his wing. The Company grow closer on their journey to Rivendell, with only Thorin Oakenshield still having issues with their burglar. Bilbo has gained a weapon after a run in with trolls and upon hearing Nori and Kili’s stories demands to start training with Dwalin as soon as possible. At the same time he has managed to reveal to Elrond, Gandalf and Thorin he is anything but a simple hobbit he starts courting Dwalin. Fili and Bofur, have finally admitted they are One, while Kili and Ori make an adorable, if mischievous pair. Dori has let some of his shadier-self show through and the Company have adopted all three of Elrond’s sons, both the elven twins and the human child. Finally Bilbo has realised he will need help keeping anyone safe and using his right as one of the religious leaders of the Shire calls upon both Mahal and Yavanna to hear his plea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : I don’t own any of The Hobbit characters, I am just taking them out of Tolkien’s toy box and playing with them.
> 
> No beta this time, any mistakes are mine. 
> 
> My apologies for making you all wait so very long for a new chapter. Especially to those of you who have followed me for years, I have repaid you poorly by allowing the story to be unfinished. I hope you can all forgive me. 
> 
> Warning: Self-harm.  
> Warning: Bilbo’s religion.   
> Warning: Language.
> 
> Words in ** are in De Khuzdtunng= the ancient dwarf language.

Càirneach.

_The seemingly never ending taunts and his rapid fire defence of his Seanmhair earned Bilbo a fierce reputation. This reputation was what caused many a hobbit to flinch back from a clearly irate child as he spat sharpened words at them while standing proudly in front of several outsiders that had entered the Shire. Not yet thirteen and yet well versed in the strange laws and histories of their home The Baggins and heir to a Thain-heir was clearly disgusted with their behaviour. To the hobbits watching him with careful eyes there was nothing odd or even special in his greeting of the three dwarves who he had separated them from. To the dwarrow the fact he bared his neck, lowered his eyes and offered them his service had all three lowering their weapons and the smallest of the three sweeping forward to wrap him in a massive hug. To the dwarrow this was a sign that Mahal had truly not forsaken them. Bilbo Baggins, to the horror of the watching hobbits did not flinch from the contact with outsiders and wrapped his arms around the dwarf’s shoulders in turn, for once standing tall as he lead them through the maze of paths and into Tooksborough and to a meeting with the Thain himself. ___

__

__*_ _

__Bilbo groaned again, resisting the urge to rub his now rather painful hands across his face. There was no way he could bind them himself, and if he left them uncover he risked infection. Oìn would possibly understand, although would probably be outraged at what Bilbo had done. None of the other dwarves except maybe Nori would be capable of treating his self-inflicted wounds. Bilbo blinked as that thought crossed his mind. Could he ask Nori to keep this from the others, the tricky dwarf certainly had the skills at keeping secrets, but was it right for Bilbo to ask this of him._ _

__Undecided Bilbo started to carefully clear away what remained of his actions, carefully tucking the stone, candle and bronze blade away into the bag, he knelt by the shore to gently wash the dried blood from his forearms, wrists and hands. The sun filtered down through the leaves surrounding him, lending warmth to his bare skin. Huffing at his own stupidity he quickly shuffled into his damp clothes. As the cut skin of his palms protested at fastening his buttons Bilbo made up his mind. He would go to Nori first, use the dwarf to figure how the rest of the Company would react, find out just how much he could tell them. He knew he would need to tell at least two dwarves the full truth, and he would honestly prefer those two dwarves to be Dwalin and Nori._ _

__

__As Bilbo was making his slow way back to the Company of dwarves he had come to call family, Thorin was still trying to shake the feeling of home that had settled deep into his bones. The eyes of his nephews regarded him with such wonder and joy that he nearly missed the tears building there. It wasn’t until one crystalline drop slipped free from Kìli’s dark eyes that he realised the lads were struggling with what to him had felt like home._ _

__He let out a wounded sound, the air rushing from him as he gathered his now shaking nephews to him. “Miz gogan gauml,” he whispered, using the name he had given them so many years previous. His heart clenched as he remembered so many scathing words thrown at him with great precision by the hobbit. Settling the boys more comfortably at his sides Thorin breathed deeply._ _

__Kìli’s timid voice broke into his thoughts, “But what was that?”_ _

__Thorin closed his eyes wondering why and how his sister-sons had reached adult hood without knowing the feeling of drukat._ _

__“In the beginning we were but carved from stone, blessed yet not with life or thought or will,” Thorin began the old tale with barely a thought. “We were created against the will of the Great-father and yet somehow Mahal managed to gift us with all we needed to be one of the free. Yet ever a faithful son our god, our creator, our father raised his hand to destroy us, not knowing the horror it truly struck into our hearts. Even as we fell to our knees and begged for the very existence of our race the Great-Father took pity, whether on us or on his own we will never be sure and cast us into a deep sleep where-in we would be the last of the free peoples of Arda to awaken.”_ _

__Thorin bit his lip as both his nephews twisted to watch his face. “This next bit is the area greatly contested by our historians and our religious leaders, any written proof we had was lost to the ravages of time and dark creatures. As we slept we were blessed, by whom no one can actually decide. As creatures of rock, as warriors and miners it is seen as weakness, our scribes and crafters see it as our greatest strength. When we truly feel safe. When our hearts are at ease we know we are home. This is not necessarily a place. Nor is it a tangible feeling.”_ _

__Free from the arms of his sister-sons Thorin stood and gazed down into the woodland that surrounded Rivendell, to where he thought the feeling had come from. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “It will be different to all of our race boys. To some it will be a warmth that they cannot shake, to others as if a light has been kindled that cannot be taken from them. To me it is almost a scent molten ore mixed with oiled leathers and for some reason things that grow.”_ _

__He felt pressure on both his shoulders knowing his nephews were standing behind him and offering their support. Support that he should have been offering them. He had failed his greatest treasures that they had never felt the drukat before, and still they supported him. He swallowed deeply. “Your father once told me he only ever felt it once and it was when he was holding his Kìli, with his Fìli laughing in Dìs’ arms. To your father, to Vìli it was when he was surrounded by those he loved most dearly. Young as we were many mocked him for it. Yet I am beginning to believe that he had the most sense out of all of our kin.”_ _

__Thorin chuckled softly as his boys cleared their throats. “There is more than that though for the Line of Durin. We are said to feel when our father walks among the mortals. That our heart sings with the old songs and we feel at peace.”_ _

__“Is that what we felt?” The awe in his eldest nephew’s voice moved Thorin._ _

__“Aye lad,” he whispered steering his gauml away from the waterfall and back to the others. “Aye I believe it was.”_ _

__*_ _

__“You did what?”_ _

__Bilbo winced as Nori’s voice sounded out across Rivendell. While he couldn’t blame the dwarf for the reaction, he had hoped Nori would be somewhat more collected about the whole thing._ _

__His wince didn’t go unnoticed as the ginger thief wrapped him in a massive hug. “Why? We are not worth that risk.”_ _

__Bilbo felt his eyes fill with tears yet again the broken sound of Nori’s voice before the words finally caught up with him. “Why Nori Rison? Why would I do what I have been trained to do for as long as I can remember to protect my family? Are you seriously asking me why?”_ _

__His own voice rang out even as he wrapped Nori in his own hug. “I did it because you are family and you have been to Mordor and all of you still stand strong. Because a father should never abandon his children, because a mother is needed to temper the sheer pig-headedness you can all have. Because I care for you, you foolish dwarf.”_ _

__Nori sighed even as he felt the hobbit in his arms gear up for another rant. He hadn’t meant it that way, but it was nice to hear that they were deeply cared about, but all the same Bilbo had to stop doing stuff like that. “We aren’t worth you dying though Bilbo!” he snapped, even while nuzzling into the curls under his nose. “I don’t think any of us could survive if we lost you. You are drukat, miz meri.”_ _

__Bilbo’s voice caught in his throat and he squeezed Nori a little tighter at the admittion. Ignoring the pain in his hands he sank to the ground, taking a still shaking dwarf with him._ _

__“You know I came to you to find out how much I should tell any of the others and to get you to fix my palms,” he joked._ _

__“You’re hurt?” Bilbo blinked as Nori was suddenly all business, drawing away and a healers pouch appearing from nowhere. “Why didn’t you say so?” Work roughened hands were turning his gently checking on the damage._ _

__Bilbo smiled a little watery, “Well you kind of screamed at me, then we did the emotional thing again so…”_ _

__Nori snorted and started to carefully clean the cuts. “Well you haven’t gone deep enough to damage any of the tendons, or major blood vessels, but please for the love of everything do not do it again.”_ _

__Bilbo nodded and they sank into a sort of peace as Nori worked on sewing the cuts. When Bilbo next blinked he found a frowning Ori looking across at him, while Nori was gently wrapping his palms._ _

__The scribe’s brown eyes were wet. “Silly hobbit,” he muttered as he flexed fingers obviously needing comfort but not wanting to disturb Nori in his work. Bilbo raised the arm Nori released and instantly the younger Ri snuggled into his side._ _

__Ori was obviously not going to give him a chance to talk and soldiered on, “You weren’t joking when you told Dori you would protect us all were you? Silly hobbit. Wonderful hobbit. Sneaky hobbit.” Bilbo chuckled as Ori cuddled closer, murmurs dying off. He waited counting the seconds. He hadn’t reached four when the dwarf spoke again, voice small._ _

__“I suppose this is one of the things that you cannot talk about to outsiders?”_ _

__Bilbo chuckled, pulling Nori to his other side. He closed his eyes breathed deeply, “I need to eat and talk to Dwalin, but would my promising I will talk to everyone tonight ease both your minds.”_ _

__Nori nodded and with a muttered, “Still need to tell Oìn…sneaky hobbits indeed,” left as silently as Ori had arrived._ _

__Bilbo looked at the young scribe. “If I tell you it cannot be written down. Only you and Dwalin will know the whole.”_ _

__Ori wrapped him in a hug and helped the pair of them up. “Why don’t you go to your rooms then and I will bring you food and find Dwalin?”_ _

__

__Bilbo smiled tiredly, “Ori you are the brightest of gems my lad.”_ _

__*_ _

__Thorin arrived back to the company to see the Urs looking slightly left out, Dwalin looking pained and Nori stalking across the room to glare at Oìn. His nephews froze by his side and he knew he was copying them when he stared opened mouthed at the healer been taken to task. What occurred to make Nori so irate was unrevealed as Ori stopped shot at the door of the kitchen took one look at the scene and whistled. Loudly._ _

__Silence fell and twelve dwarves turned as one to the obviously fuming scribe. “Enough!” Ori’s voice was harsh. “Nori that is enough! Master Oìn wasn’t to know. Gloin sit your arse back down before I make you. Dori I need your help to make some calming tea. Dwalin take this to Bilbo, he’s in his room. Fi, Ki…” the young dwarf trailed off and rubbed his eyes tiredly._ _

__Even as he did so Thorin watched his eldest nephew curl around Bofur, while Nori sidled up to Bifur and cuddled into him. Kìli wrapped an arm around the now shaking Ori’s shoulders and Thorin felt guilt that he had made one so young take on his own mantle._ _

__“Thank you Ori,” His voice was soft when he spoke and he got a blinding, if weary smile in response. “Nori we all care for our little burglar, there is no need for you to be so protective of him.”_ _

__He wasn’t expecting the snort of derision he got from the thief. “Really Thorin. Someone has to be. Sneaky, wonderful, silly hobbit.” Thorin was startled when Ori laughed softly, but was distracted by Nori speaking again. “It isn’t my story to tell, so I won’t. Oìn should have spoken to him before now as the lad is clearly not a dwarf and may end up needing different medical care to us. You your majesty have treated him as scum since the first time you laid eye on him. The lads all adopted him as one of their own, and he has done the same for all of us since day one…we just didn’t…we failed him as a company, we’ve failed him as friends, as the family he has clearly claimed us as.”_ _

__Thorin blinked as the normally emotionless thief was on his feet waving his arms around. “He was willing to die for us as early as the trolls, yet no one checked him for injuries. He has protected us time and again, often without us knowing. He…he is drukat to me, he symbolises what that is for me. To be protected and loved no matter what, to see me! Not my Auleforsaken past, or scars! Me! To be sheltered from what life wants to throw at me, but to be allowed to make my own mistakes.” Nori’s voice quieted, “He is what I should have allowed Dori to be. What I should have been for Ori. He is what we have needed all along and just never realised.”_ _

__Bifur finally stood and Thorin watched as he wrapped an arm around Nori’s shoulders. *He saw me* the grizzled dwarf stated simply. *He is as Nori says Drukat.*_ _

__A smash drew Thorin’s eyes to Dori in the doorway of the kitchen. The elegant dwarf had tears running freely into his beard even as he stepped unheeding over the remains of broken china to wrap his middle brother and the eldest Ri in a massive hugs. Grey-hazel eyes were set sternly on the company, “Is he is Drukat to my Nori then he is kin to me. He has protected my greatest treasures when I could not!”_ _

__Before Thorin could take in just how much Dori looked a true Durin there Balin coughed slightly. "He is my friend. He indulges an old dwarf in his eccentricity. He makes the young ones feel safe, he makes my brother laugh. He has the approval of both Bifur and Dori. I believe him to have been born in the wrong form cousin.”_ _

__

__Thorin nodded. Raising a mocking eyebrow at Balin. “Peace cousin. I believe myself to have been mistaken about our burglar. However I believe I need some answers before I name him as khazad-meri.”_ _

__*_ _

__Bilbo had sat in silence when Dwalin brought him food. The warrior was the first person to break, despite obviously trying to not fuss._ _

__“Bilbo…”_ _

__“It is worse than it looks Dwalin.”_ _

__“Your hands are in bandages, how is…”_ _

__“They are also stitched. I still stand by it isn’t as bad as it looks.”_ _

__Dwalin looked at the dark circles under the eyes of his One and chose not to argue, instead wrapping an arm around the slender shoulders and pulling him close._ _

__“Fine so not as bad as it looks.” He paused as Nori’s voice was heard through the closed door. “What is he saying?”_ _

__Bilbo flushed softly under his look. “He is defending me. He has claimed me as…erm he has claimed me as drukat.”_ _

__Dwalin swallowed. “So more than just I have noticed then.”_ _

__Bilbo shot him a sharp look. “But I claim you as my heart, so no jealousy yes.”_ _

__Dwalin blinked in shock. “Of course not! Drukat is sacred. For Nori to share that you are his, he feels it strongly.”_ _

__“Hence the shouting. Dwalin I have much I need to tell you. However I believe it may be better if I give the Company the condensed version first. I wanted you to be the first to know, but…”_ _

__Dwalin looked at his pale One and hugged him closer. “Still not going anywhere. Silly hobbit.”_ _

__

__He didn’t expect the gentle elbow to the ribs, “Why is everyone calling me that?”_ _

__Dwalin chuckled as he helped him up, “Because we care about you miz duzkak.”_ _

__He was rewarded with a soft kiss, “Sap,” muttered his hobbit. “Let me go face the music.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> What do you think?  
> Translations.   
> Càirneach. – Druid/priest.  
> Seanmhair-grandmother.  
> Miz gogan gauml – My blessed stars.  
> Drukat – home.  
> Miz meri – my friend.  
> Khazad-meri – dwarf-friend.   
> Miz duzkak – my love.


	55. Drukat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pasts comes to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Feels.  
> Warning: Violence.  
> Warning: Dwarves’ past.  
> Warning: Bilbo’s past. 
> 
> Apologies as this chapter is un-betad.

Drukat.

The Baggins matron had watched her grandson’s defence of her, and so when news came to her of his valiant efforts on the behalf of outsiders she decided enough was enough. The day Bilbo Baggins of the Shire was invited into a circle of a select few was just many of the days that would shape his life, although neither the thirteen year old hobbit nor his grandmother would know it. He surprised his elders time and again with his knowledge and willingness to learn. His sharp mind had him memorising the books he should not yet have had the knowledge to understand. His manners and the glint in his eye had him joining the Càirneach before his fifteenth birthday. Never before in the Shire had such a young body been granted such sacred rites. All that he learnt caused the whispers to grow louder, and yet now the young hobbit seemed disinclined to fight, merely offering all a soft smile, the dangerous glint in his eye and the raised chin making most back off. His reputation grew. 

*

Thorin had just finished speaking when a soft cough sounded behind him. He whirled around hand instinctively going to his hip where his weapon normally hung. When he saw it was no more than their burglar he blushed and was thankful for having forgone his normal attire. He peered closer at the hobbit and took in just how tired, how faded the smaller male looked. He didn’t fail to miss the bandaged hands or the subtle support the hobbit was getting from Dwalin. Making his mind up Thorin nodded and reached a hand to gently lead the smaller male to a seat. 

Bilbo smiled at him and shook his head, although he did press the dwarf’s offered fingers reassuringly for a moment. Thorin took in the determination in green-hazel eyes and retreated himself to sit. 

Bilbo elbowed Dwalin softly and the warrior growled at him, only to be shooed away with a sad smile. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield watched in growing concern as their hobbit set himself apart from them all. 

Bilbo smiled at them all, as if taking courage in their emotions. “I need to stand alone to do this.” At first they were barely aware he had spoken, so gentle was his voice. “If I have someone to lean on then I will take the coward’s way out and run.” Humour crossed his face briefly, “Although I can now see màthair shaking her head and telling me that running might be what keeps me alive.” 

Bilbo raised his head. “Now some of what I tell you will be of no surprise to several of you, some none know, but may have guessed. I merely ask you keep any questions to yourself until I have finished.” 

The dwarves watched as he shot Ori a fond look when the scribe passed out parchment to those who could write. “I was born in the Shire, in Bag End actually, what set me out from my birth was that I was the son of a Baggins and a Took. The blending of those two lines in the Shire is mainly unheard of. Mainly because the difference of temperaments. Baggins are seen as polite, well-meaning, but homebodies, while Tooks are seen as adventurous, wanders who will defend those they love with all they have. I was a gangly child, but loved reading and writing. Before I realised just what it meant I had become interested in the history of any race I could find and being a child, I settled on wanting to know the most about the race I could never know more than mainly lore and stories about. By the age of eight I was lucky enough to come across a very rare book, a ledger that was to teach young dwarrow to read and write. Of course that wasn’t much use to me until I came across one that actually showed young dwarrow how to translate to common and back. I still don’t consider myself an expert, but I am probably the only one outside of your race who has read certain books cover to cover.”

 

Thorin gasped, but didn’t speak, suddenly understanding how Bilbo had known of his family. 

Bilbo seemed to ignore his interruption, “I do not know how some of those books came into circulation considering the only two libraries in Arda that should contain them are either infested by orcs or by a fire worm. I did devour any book I could get my hands on. ‘Twas but a couple of years later that I stumbled across a mystery in my own family. Now Grandmother Baggins had many names, both inside and outside the family halls. She was a healer of no little renown, as well as the best hostess you could ever meet. I had taken refuge in her library to avoid several aunts and crawled under the writing desk itself to be further hidden from them. In my haste I knocked several sheaves of paper to the floor. The writing I recognised as my grandmother’s, the information was unknown to me. This is where she found me and scared me half to death when she crawled under the desk with me.”

Bilbo broke off with a chuckle, his eyes showing how lost in the past he was. Thorin realised his nephews, the youngest Ri brothers and Bofur had moved to sit at the hobbit’s feat, their eyes wide as they swallowed the simple history Bilbo was giving them. The dwarven prince glanced around and saw Balin’s eyes were shadowed with sadness, as were Bifur’s. Dori was gripping the edge of his seat so hard that cracks were appearing. Oìn was wearing a dawning look of fear, while Gloin and Bombur were leaning forward in their interest. Dwalin had his eyes closed and seemed to be chewing on the inside of his check. Swallowing at what he suddenly feared was to come Thorin turned to face Bilbo and even as he did the hobbit began his tale again. 

“Marvellous woman my grandmother was, somehow got me interested in her healing and busy enough that I barely had time for any of my other interests. Of course I was a child and so had free time that she couldn’t stop me learning in. By my thirteenth year I had learnt that despite being well respected as a healer, the tongues would not stop wagging rumours of my grandmother and I in my youth hastened to silence them with fists and feet. Three days before my birthday I came across three dwarrow who my kin had backed into a corner with their sharp tongues. The two larger dwarrow were defending the smaller and I lost my temper, only this time I used words as a true hobbit should. That day the Thain also agreed to trade between the Iron Hills and the Shire, from that day dwarrow were classed as ‘safe’ outsiders. I don’t actually know if any took him up on the agreement and came to the Shire to trade. News reached my grandmother who once again took me under her wing. Suddenly I found myself learning of our religion and by my fifteenth birthday became a low racking Càirneach.”

Thorin swallowed as Bilbo raised bandaged hands, “I learnt many rituals, some only to be used when in the direst need I may have taught myself, years after I needed them.” Green-hazel eyes became haunted and Thorin gulped as his kin froze around him. Bilbo’s smile vanished.

 

“When I was but eighteen the Shire face the worst winter we have had in memory. Many fell to the cold, or to hunger, but the sickness was worse. What was a trainee healer and second level priest able to do in the face of such horrors? We didn’t realise the worst was yet to come. Wolves came in packs, tearing apart any caught outside alone. The orcs appeared towards the end of the winter. We lost so many in those few months. I became changed after that, I shut myself off bar a few, rarely laughed or smiled. I threw myself into my research, into my duties old and new. I became Hobbiton’s main healer, our highest priest, The Baggins of Bag End, and our township’s history keeper. We had seeming peace after that, although our borders were never truly safe, as the sheer numbers of missing Tooks and Brandybucks can attest to. Thirteen years after that winter, when I was thirty-one, Jenny went missing, and we found to our horror we had orcs in our lands once again. That’s where I came up against an orc slasher, when I got the scars on my back. I owe Saradoc a life debt for his actions that day. Bugger won’t accept that though, says the family is in my debt. Damn stupid if you ask me, Jenny was my kin as well…” 

Thorin swallowed as Bilbo trailed off, despite showing more heat towards the end he could see the hobbit was tiring. He gestured subtly, hoping someone would pick up on his rusty signs. Before anyone could act Bilbo was talking again. 

“My several months of healing put my studies back somewhat, but I threw myself into them. I was holding my coming of age celebrations when screaming, not just shouts and laughter, but terrified, pained screaming echoes across the air. Screams of humans. Our bounders threw themselves into action, but we were too slow. A platoon of five rangers had been torn apart on our boarders, close to the Old Forest. The suspect, a forest troll was captured and burnt, but we were too late to do anything for the humans, bar giving them a proper send off. I knew then that the world was getting darker and so snuck secrets I shouldn’t have known unless I became head of the religious order, home with me. I dived deeper into the knowledge I could gain from books at the traders at Bree, I bothered elves that travelled across our boarders. Ten years ago I stopped traveling. I came across a young female ranger on one of our secret roads. Strong and tall, she had her whole life ahead of her, yet she lay broken in the dirt. I rolled her so I could check her pulse and only years of practice kept my sanity. Her eyes had been removed. That was too much for me, and once I had managed to leave her body with her kin I simply stopped travelling. I have seen too many dead in my time, but that was the last straw. I haven’t left the Shire since, until you all showed up.”

Thorin looked around and was surprised to find that as Bilbo had talked someone had cleared the broken china up and brewed fresh tea which sat steaming on a side table. 

Dori frowned at the shuffling of his fellow dwarrow even as he placed a new tea tray down. Well Master Baggins was braver than even Nori gave him credit for and he would get one cup of sweet tea down the lad’s throat before questions started. 

Thorin, to Dori’s surprise backed him on this. “Silence!” He grunted meeting Dori’s stern eye, “Give Master Baggins a chance to have a cup of tea. In fact Dori if you would be so kind, that does smell wonderful, would it be possible I could steal a cup.”

Thorin flushed as he was rewarded with a brilliant smile from the eldest Ri, The almost paternal twinkle in grey-hazel eyes had him relaxing and he accepted the cup he was offered with grace. 

Dwalin wrapped himself around Bilbo as soon as Dori had pushed his hobbit into the seat beside him. He was mentally cursing at what his One had gone through and wondered just what extra Bilbo could tell him. He hoped his hobbit knew he would never stop loving him and that every word he said of his past merely made him all the more beautiful in Dwalin’s eyes. 

 

Balin sat frozen, completely unaware of what was going on around him as his mind did the maths. “Laddie?” he asked cautiously, flinching at Dori’s glare. Bilbo gently patted the eldest Ri on the arm and Dori relaxed. Balin tried again. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but how old are you?”

Bilbo for some reason chuckled, and as Dwalin hid his face in the hobbit’s curls with a groan, Balin wished he hadn’t asked. 

“Don’t know if you lightened the mood with that or not Master Balin, but I am fifty-three.”

Balin found his mouth hanging open and a deathly hush fell over the Company.

“What…Did…You…Say?” Balin raised old eyes to Dori and stood suddenly. He caught the eldest Ri as he swayed and gently lowered him into a seat. 

Bilbo had paled at Dori’s reaction. “I am fifty-three Dori. That makes me middle aged among my kin if it helps at all?”

Dori shook slightly under Balin’s hand, “I…Fifty-three?” 

Bilbo was suddenly on his knees before Dori and Balin could have kissed him for the worry in the slighter male’s eyes. “Aye Dori. We age faster than you and your kin.” Balin watched as bandaged hands covered Dori’s still trembling ones. “You have not put a child in danger ever Dori so do not get that idea into your head!” Bilbo’s sharp voice struck like a whip through the room and suddenly the youngest Ri were at their brother’s side, wrapping him in a group hug. 

Balin stepped back and gratefully accepted Bilbo’s seat. The hobbit pressed a warm cup into his cold fingers and smiled wryly at him. “Please don’t bring my age up again Master Balin.”

“Just Balin,” He heaved a sigh and smiled, “If you are courting my brother it can even be brother.” He jumped as he was wrapped in a hug by a massively smiling hobbit and an emotional younger brother. 

 

Thorin watched the proceedings with interest, deciding he need to act he stood, carefully placing his cup down and shooing the five on the floor into seats. “Master Baggins,” he began drawing all eyes to him. 

Straightening his shoulder Thorin met the hobbit’s eyes straight on. “I have offered you a great wrong in treating you as I did. Will you accept my apology?”

Bilbo leant against Dwalin and regarded the dwarven prince for a moment. “Nothing to forgive Master Oakenshield, you were just trying to protect your own.” He allowed the quiet to tick for several seconds mentally making a note of the sun’s level. “Now does anyone have any questions?”

Bilbo smiled fondly as Gloin raised a hand, “Aye Master Baggins. You mentioned your father, and the families you are from but who was your mother?”

Losing the fond smile Bilbo growled at Nori, “Really you told them?”

Gloin blinked, “Actually Ori mentioned her name.”

“Are you going to judge her?” 

“Now I’ve had time to think on it, no I am not.”

“Good,” Bilbo relaxed again, “She may have been a thief in her younger years Master Gloin, but everyone makes stupid mistakes when they are young. She was the greatest mother a lad could ever have dreamed of. Yes she was different to the other parents, with her tattoo, piercing and braids, but she was colour in a world of grey. She taught me to always hold my head high. She taught me respect and to follow my heart. Nori knows…knew her. She told me tales once of a dwarfling with the brightest green eyes she had ever seen and a heart of gold, how she had wanted to bring him home just so the rest of the guild would leave him alone. She is the reason we don’t have thieves in the Shire even now.” Bilbo met Nori’s gaze with a fierce grin and let the dwarf talk.

“She shaved the representative of the dwarven sect of the guild and nearly gelded the human one. For years any thief, bar myself, who went near the Shire suffered a variety of accidents.” Nori stood proud, “I called her my friend. I called her sister, mother and daughter. She protected her own who knew nothing of her life. In her own way she protected me. She helped me remember what Dori had taught me, made me repeat the vows I had made as a guard year after year. It is because of her I follow the line of Durin, it is because of her I still follow you my Liege.” With his last words Nori dropped to one knee before Thorin. 

Silence once again reigned and Thorin looked about him in disbelief, meeting Bilbo’s hard gaze he knew what he had to do. “And I am honoured that you are still willing to follow me cousin.” 

He raised Nori to his feet and wrapped an arm around the slender dwarf’s shoulders. The pride on the faces of his family made him shift nervously even as Nori shook next to him. Bilbo took pity on them. 

“Any more questions?” 

“Just how sturdy are you?” Oìn’s voice was filled with deep regret and curiosity so Bilbo chose not to take offense. 

“Hardier than men, bone structure is on a par with you, skin and musculature on a par with elves, although we do not have either races’ healing factors. Illness has to be harsh to truly do us damage, as do injuries. We can Fade with heartbreak though. I can give you a more in depth talk later if you wish?” Satisfied Oìn nodded, making a mental note to hold the hobbit to that, the small male had become a favourite of him. Maybe he would even share some of his own tale with him. 

Ori spoke before Bilbo could ask again. “History keeper?”

Bilbo glowered at the obviously unchastised dwarf. “Yes,” he managed to get out eventually. “Very little of my people’s history had been written down. We have a more verbal culture. I took it upon myself to finish my father’s work and wrote down what I could, that way our heritage doesn’t fade if we get another Fell Winter.”

Ori’s voice was soft as he answered, “Thank you Bilbo.”

 

Bilbo jerked back as Nori was invading his space. “I have a question. Why the hell does my brother have papers that tell Smaug is still alive?”

Bilbo met Thorin’s suddenly furious eyes, Ori, Balin and Dwalin stilling around him. “Because there is a very good chance he still is.” Bilbo tried to keep his voice calm. “The papers Ori carries are a copy of information I have collected over the years. They do not detail Smaug as such, but are a collection of works of drakes of different lines. You cannot blame Ori for focusing in on fire drakes can you?” Thorin shook his head, Bilbo didn’t give him a chance to talk. “There is a chance my information is wrong about your particular drake. He was but young when he entered your mountain and so sixty years may have killed him, if not he should certainly be weaker because of it.”

Thorin nodded, “And you didn’t mention it before because?”

Bilbo flapped a hand at a heavily breathing Nori, “Well that reaction for one. How was I to broach it? I am a hobbit from the Shire, just because a few believed me didn’t mean you all would. I was actually hoping to come up with a plan on how to destroy the beast if it is still alive, although I have been distracted somewhat by the need to keep the young ones safe.”

Nori snorted seemingly calmed, “I don’t think young ones will work anymore. No more secrets like that please my friend.”

Bilbo sighed, “That’s what this is for Nori.”

Thorin nodded and Bilbo saw the dwarf glance at the sun. “I think we have enough to be thinking on,” he muttered with a half-smile. “Master Baggins you need food and rest to heal from whatever you have done to yourself, and I suspect the rest of us need to eat before we do something rash.”

Bilbo chuckled as he curled up next to a sulking Bombur, “Wise words oh leader of mine.”

Thorin barked a laugh as he chased Balin and Dwalin into the kitchen, “Shush you.”

Bombur finally noticed the hobbit at his side. “I believe Nori is right Bilbo. You are indeed drukat to the Company.” The large male shifted and glanced around the now gossiping dwarves, “Would you look through the letter I wish to send my bonded?”

Bilbo smiled at the gentle dwarf and pressed his arm, mindful of damaged palms. “If you want me to Bombur.”

As Thorin directed Dwalin and Balin in the kitchen he came to the decision that Bilbo was indeed Khazad-meri and that he would name him so before they left Rivendell. 

Dwalin was still wondering what else Bilbo could possibly need to tell him. He didn’t realise he was humming as he thought of his hobbit. 

Balin was in a small state of shock. He now had two baby brothers to watch out for again, and there was a live dragon at the end of the quest, that they had hired his newest brother to go against.

Oìn was pondering just what their burglar couldn’t bounce back from. The lad had clearly been through hell and yet was still standing, calmly able to tell his past, while also protecting anyone he deemed family. He realised why Nori had been so annoyed, he really didn’t know the first thing about treating the hobbit.

Gloin was thinking carefully about Nori’s words. When he had been in the guard Nightshade (aka Belladonna Took) was the bane of his life. He now wondered if her teasing him had been a way of protecting him. Even as he thought, his irritation turned into grudging respect. 

Ori was carefully sorting through the knowledge he had gained. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed Bilbo into this. If it was hurting his friend, he didn’t need to know. 

Nori was still standing where Thorin had left him. He was in shock. What in Mahal’s name possessed him to do that? The last time he had honoured his vows was been when his chest had been crushed, the last time he had renewed his vows had been with Belladonna standing behind him after they had crept into what had been nicknamed the Throne-room in the Blue Mountains. 

Dori had heard very little sine he had discovered Bilbo’s age, unlike Nori and Ori he hadn’t known how hobbits aged and so he was trying to squash down the instincts to wrap the lad up in blankets and cart him back to the Shire. He’d get his head around it eventually, but at the minute he just kept going back to fifty-three. 

Bifur was watching everyone carefully as he thought over what he had been told. Nori’s actions caught his eye and he frowned as the thief rubbed at his chest, flashes of memory came back to him. Soft words spoken around his cot in the infirmary, he jolted to his feet as they linked in with the scars he had seen. *Do they know?*

His screamed question snapped everyone from their thoughts, shaking Fìli, Kìli and Bofur from their wide eyed staring and brought the prince, warrior and advisor rushing in from the kitchen. 

Bifur snarled at the reminder of his dead king, and the cowardly one king, gently removing Nori’s fingers from where they were entangling in his tunic. He used his fingers to raise the thief’s chin. *Nori does anyone here know?*

Green eyes widened and Bifur winced at the pain he saw there. Slowly resignation flooded Nori’s frame. “Aye Bilbo and Oìn.”

The words were whispered as Nori sagged against him, and Bifur glanced frantically around him. Oìn was half way to his feet, eyes worried as the healer assessed the situation. Bilbo hadn’t moved, but his eyes showed the pain he clearly felt. Making his mind up Bifur led Nori to the hobbit and pushed him into the arms that were suddenly waiting. To the confusion of the watching dwarrow Nori whimpered and curled up. 

Bifur felt bad as he watched the memories consume the thief, but shaking himself free turned to Oìn for answers. 

The healer swallowed, suddenly showing his age as he sank back into the chair. “I was almost blinded by grief. Was wandering the battlefield, where in my state I really had no right to be. They had told me all that was left was the bodies of the dead, but that was how I felt, that was where I really wished to be at the time. Gloin was still alive, but in my grief at loosing Skena I didn’t truly understand. I sat by a rock, staring out across the field of death. It was as I was staring that I noticed a strange motion. One of the bodies was clawing at the ground, when I realised it was a dwarf hand I was suddenly flung back into the real world. I had taken an oath to preserve life and I realised then that Skena would have my head if I failed. The dwarf’s injuries, even to this day I do not know how they survived. To enter that battlefield in leather armour was to court death, and yet this dwarf had clearly answered his king’s call to the best of his abilities. Despite the injuries, I could see multiple, empty scabbards. There was a strangely shaped blade at his feet, one of clearly Khazad make. Around the arm of the warrior next to him was a makeshift bandage clearly torn from this dwarf’s mask. He had laid his life down to protect one who was injured. I somehow got the attention of the stretcher bearers and we managed to get him back to the healing tents with breath still left in him.” 

Oìn choked slightly, “Mahal I wept when we removed his leathers. Like the other dwarf I found myself caring for, the rest of the healers wished to focus solely on those they thought saveable. In my eyes that fact that either of my two charges were still breathing meant I owed them my all. I have failed in my accountability though.” Oìn pushed to his feet eyes flashing as he held himself tall. “My liege before you, you see two of the heroes of Azanulbizar. They fought honourably until they fell defending others. They answered the call of their king and have been abandoned by our line since. I give you Nori of Ri and Bifur of the Clan Ur.”

Thorin knelt suddenly, the rest of the dwarrow following his example. Bilbo helped Nori stand, pushing him to stand as Bifur backed towards them shaking his head. Bilbo knelt to, bowing his head in respect. Thorin was the first to rise, resting his forehead gently against Bifur’s and then Nori’s. “It will be recorded.”

 

Bilbo marvelled as those four little words sent the dwarrow into a flurry. Even as he sat with his arms around the two stunned and shaken dwarves he could see Ori drawing up a masterpiece of a document. Thorin’s seal was soon placed on the paperwork, and Bilbo sighed, humming softly to his friend’s as they cuddled into him. In his opinion hugs were needed before paperwork, but if it meant clearing either of his friend’s names then he’d let the king get on with it. 

When the seals were dry Bilbo found Nori taken off his hands by the brothers Ri and Bifur was converged upon by a sobbing Bombur and shaking Bofur. Shaking his head Bilbo decided a walk was in order and headed away from the terrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Translations.  
> Màthair – mother.


	56. Vows, Memories, Explanations and Childish Comfort.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aye, apologies for how mean I am to everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Feels.  
> Warning: Mentions of OC character death.   
> Warning: Violence.  
> Warning: Dwarf’s past.

Her grandson just turned eighteen and yet far too young to be taking on her responsibilities was the only reason Seanmhair Baggins had held on for as long as she had with age and illness riddling her body. In the end he had held her hand and sung her into her final deep rest, her last sight was of his green-hazel eyes shining with unshed tears, even as his voice held strong in her honour. She hoped he would blossom into the bright spirit she could still see, but as Yavanna’s garden called to her, she feared he would face darkness that could tarnish his soul. She was to be right and the first of his true challenges blew in on an ill wind, bringing an early snow fall to the Shire and a winter of horrors for its inhabitants. Even so the spirit of Bilbo Baggins still shone brightly in the eyes of the Ban-dia Màthair.

*

Oìn found himself alone in the wing the Company had been gifted for their stay in Rivendell. His aged eyes roved slowly over the belongings and borrowed items that now lay scattered freely around the social area. Food had been forgotten in his revelations of the middle Ri and eldest Ur as being unsung heroes of that dreadful time, and yet he suspected, the Company, as he himself would not be able to stomach such a thing with the memories and thoughts that would now plague them. 

He was often the best of his kin at keeping the memories at bay, his training allowing him to repress emotion until time which he allowed himself to remember. Yet as he stood alone, he found the past threatening to overwhelm him. He shut his eyes, falling heavily back into one of the chairs as memories flashed behind his eyes. Unbeknown to him tears fell down his cheeks as he curled small on himself. Speaking of that day, of how he had found crushed Nori and a broken Bifur fading to be replaced at the memories of seeing his One dragged into the healer’s tent, stomach torn open by a cruel blade and her body littered with broken arrows. 

His prematurely aged frame shuddered as he lost himself to the memory. Even in the brilliant light and clean air of Rivendell all he could smell was death and destruction. He panicked, adding his voice to the riot, calling out for his fellow healers to come to his aid. He fought desperately to stop the blood from flowing from her abdomen, holding cloths to stem the rush. His voice went unheard as yet more wounded were dragged in. Tears streamed down his face as he called out for her to remain with him, to not leave him in this world alone. Blood stained his hands, arms and clothing as he fought desperately to save the dam he loved beyond his own life. He could feel the truth lurking at the back of his mind even as he refused to give up, he knew he would not be able to save her, but still he stripped the rent armour from her broken form and tried his hardest to patch her together, to keep life in her veins. He felt her weapon warn hand soft on his cheek and looked into violet eyes, even as she managed one last smile for him and the light left her. His cry of rage and despair brought the healing tent to a complete and very silent stop as it lingered in the air. Heads were lowered, those of both healer and injured as they recognised the cry of a dwarf who has lost his soul bonded. 

*

Estel young though he was recognised the sounds of pained sobbing and, despite what Lindir had told him, wasted no time in crawling into the lap of the shaking dwarf he came across. He had managed to escape lessons to find the dwarves who had been so kind to him before. He wished to more of them, but his tender young heart meant he would not leave one who was so obviously hurting. His brothers had always needed closeness and soothing when they lost themselves in the darkness and in his youth he hoped he could comfort this dwarf. So instead of running he curled up in the dwarf’s space and cuddled into the wide but shaking frame. He ran hands over clenched fists, wondering how else he could help. His mother’s voice came to him from his dreams and his childish voice began to sing. 

“Let wind blow, let fire burn   
Let sea rise to greet sky  
Let sun warm, let moon cool   
For all the earth to breathe 

Let song speak, let hearts break   
Let tears flow in heartache   
Let war take, let love heal   
For all on earth to breathe 

Daylight long fall   
As shadows call   
Let truth stand tall   
For loves soft call 

Let wind blow, let fire burn   
Let sea rise to greet sky   
Let sun warm, let moon cool   
For all the earth to breathe 

Daylight long fall   
As shadows call   
Let truth stand tall   
For loves soft call   
For all 

Let skies shine, let souls fly   
Let dawn break before us   
Let day grow, let night fall   
For all the earth   
For all on earth to breathe 

Let wind blow   
And fire burn   
Let sea rise   
To greet sky  
Let sun warm   
And moon cool   
For all the earth   
To breathe.” (1)

*

Oìn found himself calmed in his mind as a sweet, but young voice seemed to echo. He knew this was not a part of the memory, he had lived it enough times to know that, but he found himself latching onto the sadness in the young voice. The healer in him worried at a youth being harmed and he shook himself from the memory. He was shocked to find he had an arm full of human child and it was this child who was singing in such a sweet voice. The small hands hand already curled into his clothing and Oìn who had never held a child of his own found himself wrapping his own arms around the obviously sad youth.

His movement startled the boy and the child’s surprise nearly toppled them to the ground. He was quick with reassurances, despite his voice being croaky. To his surprise it was the human Estel, whom he could remember meeting briefly. The child calmed quickly though and Oìn found himself looking into eyes that were far too old for one so young. 

Estel’s voice broke the silence. “Mama used to sing that for me when I had bad dreams of the monsters that took Papa from us.” Oìn nodded, but before he could think the child started talking again. “Mama left us for a brighter world two winters ago, but I know she still watches over me because I can hear her voice in my dreams. My brothers can’t hear their Mama so I sing that for them when they lose themselves in the darkness like you were Mister Dwarf.”

Oìn swallowed, “Child…”

“I came to play with Fìli and Kìli because Lindir was being boring again, or maybe try and see if Master Balin would be kind enough to tell me another story. I couldn’t leave you in the darkness though Mister Dwarf, it isn’t right. If you feel better could you tell me a story? Ada says all our guests have stories to tell and that I should learn, but most of our guest are boring, but you and your friends aren’t and you welcomed me when you didn’t have to.” The child on his lap suddenly seemed shy, “I mean if it isn’t too much trouble Mister Dwarf?”

Oìn managed a chuckle for the child and dug up a smile from somewhere. “Breath lad,” he rumbled, his voice still rather broken. “First off my name is Oìn and I think you have done me a great service and so I am in your debt. Secondly I am nowhere near as fun as the two young ones, or as good a story teller as Master Balin.”

Wide grey eyes regarded him, “But I want you to tell me a story Mister Oìn.”

The lad’s pout and the fact he stumbled over his name gave the healer pause. “How old are you lad?”

The narrow chest puffed up in pride, “I am ten Mister Oìn.”

Oìn managed to look suitably impressed, even as he found the darkness of his memories receding. “Ten, my, that is a grand age lad.” He looked around as if to check they were alone, “I tell you what why don’t we get some food in you and I’ll tell you some tales of when I was such a strapping lad as yourself?”

He got a hearty nod in response and the child on his lap hopped up to drag him into the kitchen. Joints protesting Oìn allowed himself to be dragged along, as the child somehow managed to hop up on a bench and sit crossed legged, looking at him in eager delight Oìn found himself laughing properly. 

*

Thorin had felt a confusing mix of emotions over all he had learnt that day. Mostly though he was appalled that he could have travelled with two who had been at Azunilbizar and not known. That these two had been over looked when he had tried to piece together his people’s faded and broken moral. That he had failed in such basic leadership as to make sure everyone had what they needed. Nori had clearly still had to go back to the Guild of Thieves after his recovery and Bifur’s family, cousins at that, had found a way to support him until the dwarf had started to carve and make toys again. 

It was in such a reflective frame of mind, and close to dusk that Gandalf found the dwarven prince sitting by the square fish pool in a chilled courtyard. The wizard stayed in the shadows watching the slow movements of the dwarf and repressed a sigh, he was starting to suspect that the dwarrow of Erebor had been through more hell that he could even begin to imagine. Yet he needed Thorin to see this quest through to the end. The Durin folk need to be strong or the coming darkness would wipe them from the records. He suspected it was only with the aid of Durin’s folk the rest of the world would not fall into shadow once again, although he knew not how. The power he had felt in Rivendell, but one night previous gave him no small hope that, someone, somewhere had claimed these thirteen dwarrow as their own and made Mahal sit up and take notice. If Mahal had noticed the battle, then Yavanna would have also. If Yavanna was paying attention then the darkness would tremble, for Durin’s line may yet all know Drukat, in their hearts. 

Shaking himself from thought he couldn’t fix or follow Gandalf allowed himself to step into the light and sat beside Thorin with a soft groan. 

“Wizard.”

“Thorin, I will not ask what has occurred, but you did ask Elrond to have another look at your map this night.”

“You wizard have the tact of a rampaging Oliphaunt.” Gandalf listened to the soft sigh beside him and it told him more than words could. “Fine wizard, let us not keep My Lord Elrond waiting, he has been a gracious host and a good elf.”

Thorin’s swift movement surprised him and Gandalf found himself looking into intense blue-grey eyes. “I believe you have changed somewhat in your stay here Thorin Oakenshield.”

“In more ways than I wish to imagine Tharkûn. In more ways than I care to think on.”

Gandalf sighed and risked resting a hand on Thorin’s shoulder as he finally got to his feet, “I see before me a dwarf who needs no crown or jewel to be king, and if the ancient laws allowed it I would crown you so Mountain or no my old friend.”

The dark hair of the dwarf obscured his sight, but Thorin heard the truth ringing in every word the wizard spoke and so didn’t shrug the hand from his shoulder. 

“I am worried Tharkûn,” he admitted in a whisper, finally turning to peer at the Maïar. “My path is before me, yet the end is shrouded in flames and fog. I wish not to fall to the madness of my fore-fathers and yet see no way of avoiding it should the dragon still hold sway over the gold. I see no way to protect my kith and kin from a long and arduous death should I turn back. I cannot be the king they deserve. I am not ready for this.”

He took a deep breath when the pressure on his shoulder increased marginally. Gandalf didn’t speak and so Thorin buried his worries for a time the wizard wished to bring them up again. “We have an elf waiting on us Gandalf. Lead on.”

*  
Bilbo sat on a rock staring at the star Oìn had told him meant remembrance and allowed himself to remember. He allowed tears to fall as he brought to mind first his mother, her sea-green eyes glowing with mirth as they twirled at the summer equinox, her long hair braided tightly and woven with flowers. He remembered his Seanmhair Baggins, her powder soft, wrinkled cheek hiding the strength of spirit that burnt strong, calling to his own. He remembered his father, soft voice ringing with power as he sang hymns of thanks to the green mother for the year’s harvest, the plump cheeks that crinkled his brilliant eyes in a smile. He didn’t dwell on the dead though he gave his thanks he had, had them in his life and moved on to remembering the living. Jenny, now an adult herself, copper curls gleaming as she led the boys on a merry chase during the spring stomp, aquamarine eyes showing the same spirit as every Took before her. His apprentice Dora, her wicked sense of humour and fiery temper making her stand strong when most would have fled, her care even as trained healers nearly despaired, the spirit that burned so strongly she was yet to find someone who could bond to her without withering in its heat. His Primula, so much younger than him, but one who would be a good mother and who could teach everyone she met good morals and who was a true example that words held power. His baby cousin Drogo, hair like a wheat field after a hot summer and a worrying love of the water and river in the Shire, his love for Primula shinning over everything he did. 

A star for remembrance indeed. Bilbo found himself smiling as he started humming an old ballad from home. He hoped his dwarrow could find the same peace he did in the night’s sky. 

*

Ori leant against a tree in one of the many garden rooms of Rivendell. His oldest brothers had finally settled into a doze against him as dusk had settled and he offered them what peace he could by keeping watch. His heart had bled for them when they had broken into tears after he had dragged them into the gardens. He had known of course that his brothers were not infallible, not immortal and certainly not perfect, but finding Nori had been at that battle and had hidden it for so many years had broken Dori. Ori tightened his arms around his brothers, they had been his shelter and his support for all his life. No matter what had happened they had come through for him, time after time. He raised his head and looked at the green-grey leaves of the tree. It was his turn to step up now. He would protect them to the best of his ability, he would not fail them. He whispered a vow into the silence of the night, unheard by any, but the trees that grew around him. The ancient spirits of the tress heard his vow and it moved their old spirits. They made their own vow. In a language forgotten to all but the wood elves, they vowed that wherever their kin dwelt these axe-carriers would find aid. 

*

Bofur was silently fuming, even as Bombur was loudly venting. Bifur had escaped them and the two Ur brothers had been left to their own devices. Years of experience had taught Bombur that when Bifur left he needed to be alone, Bofur didn’t understand as he hadn’t been there and he was starting to see just what his absence had wrought. His elder brother was swearing loudly, his cousin preferred to be alone when emotional and Bofur hadn’t known. He shook himself from his own temper and wrapped his arms around Bombur who finally broke down. The large dwarf’s sobs as he remembered the time after the battle, when he had realised Bifur had left, that Bofur had disappeared. He clung to his baby brother. Their leader had finally done them justice and he could now see why Bofur had such faith in their prince. That he would admit his mistakes, in public to a lowly family and have Bifur’s name placed on the records as a hero and a warrior. Bifur’s name would be cleared of the stigma of madness and, the Ur family honour would be restored. Bombur hugged his baby brother closer, even as stone worn hands closed in his beard as they had when the miner was just a bairn. 

Bifur stopped his silent escape to realise he couldn’t run this time. The idea of being a hero scared him, he was a miner and a toy maker, not a warrior or a brave, but he would stand by his family, he wouldn’t leave them to face the crowds alone once again. He wouldn’t fail his little cousin this time. Straightening his spine he made his way back to where he had run from his own family. His courage nearly faltered when he saw their tear stained faces, but before he could step back he was wrapped in a sobbing Bofur’s hug, Bombur’s tear bright eyes fixed on his face and when he cousin opened his arms Bifur fell into them gratefully. 

Under the light of the remembrance star the Ur clan made a vow to follow Thorin Oakenshield into the fire. 

*

Fìli and Kìli sat with their uncles in the Rivendell library, their voices muted as they told the two dwarves who had always been there for them just why they had truly wished to come on this quest. Dwalin and Balin sat shocked as the two young heirs explained that while they really couldn’t remember Erebor they wanted their family to have a home. They wanted their mother to be safe, that they wanted any children they raised to know drukat. 

“Lads…” Dwalin trailed off, looking to his brother for aid, but Balin seemed as shocked as he. 

Kìli bless his heart merely smiled at them. “Surely you have guessed we have found our Hrun on this quest uncle?”

Balin swallowed, “You share a one?”

Kìli answered again, “No, we have each found our Hrun. We do not share them. I will not speak for my brother, but I will be asking Master Dori for his permission to court Ori when things have settled somewhat. I know I am not of age, but my heart will not be moved from this. He has been my stable over the years. We have always found our way back to each other and I wear his promise braid.” 

Dwalin swallowed as he saw his younger brother in Kìli’s expression and nodded. “You may not be of age lad, but you grew up in a different way to us, no one would expect you to not know your mind.”

Kìli’s face softened and Dwalin noticed the support he was being offered by the eldest Durin, but said nothing as Kìli spoke again. “I would not dishonour him by not following the proper steps though Uncle. Although he wears my promise braid we have not exchanged gifts, although we have exchanged promises to teach the other. We will not go forward without proper blessing.”

Balin coughed, “That shows you in good light my lad, I cannot see Dori having any issues in welcoming you as his brother’s Hrun, you have known each other for too many years. Nor can I see any issues in welcoming young Ori into our own immediate family.”

Fìli nodded softly, “Yet I love someone who is not as high in the ranking as Ori, and I am not as honourable as Ki. I will bond to my Hrun, blessing or no. I will not lose him for a throne and mountain halls I have yet to see. I do not wish to disappoint any of my family, but he is worth more than I could ever be.”

Dwalin smiled, “Lad I’m courting a hobbit.”

Fìli finally smiled, “Yes we’ve all seen that. Uncle do you think…”

Dwalin stood and moved to stand by his eldest nephew’s side. “I will stand by you if you want me to my boy.”

If the librarian was annoyed by the chair clattering to the ground as the blonde dwarf crushed the tall blond one in a massive hug he didn’t show it, merely smiled and continued to place books back onto the shelves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So how did I do?   
> (1) I do not own this song it is by Chloe Agnew and is aptly named ‘Angel’s song.’
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
> (Old shire – English)  
> Seanmhair – Grandmother.   
> Ban-dia Màthair – mother-goddess.  
> (Khuzdul – English)   
> Hrun – one.


	57. Reading of a map.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of injury to a party member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Sorry for making you all wait so long. 
> 
> I have Blackbriar 'until Eternity' stuck in my head, and I want to write a mod au for the characters of the Hobbit from it, but I have no idea where to start. :(
> 
> This chapter is not beta read so any mistakes are my own.

Chapter fifty-eight – Reading of a map. 

_So it stands to this day that Bilbo Baggins of the Shire left with a rag tag troop of dwarrow, all of whom were completely unaware of his unique placement in the Shire, and in ignorance of the darkness the hobbit had previously faced, yet one by one they fell to his charm and he became a true member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. His family left behind in the reaches of the Shire merely shook their heads and told tales of the great adventures his mother before him had gone on. ___

*

Elrond was sitting at a desk pondering just what could have brought the power he had felt down to Rivendell. None of his spies spoke of a great, immediate threat to the lands and nor had any of the Dunedain rangers mentioned anything more strange than three new troll statues on his boarders. Giving a very unelvish groan of frustration the elf lord pushed his books to one side and let his head flop forward onto the desk top. 

Before he could wallow too deeply in his thoughts there was a knock at the door and that heralded the arrival of Gandalf. Sitting up and attempting to pat his hair into some semblance of order Elrond was in time to hear the dwarf prince’s scolding of the Istari. 

“We wait after knocking Mithandir. That gives whoever is in the room a chance to answer to door and let us in.”

Thorin was clearly not in the mood for the wizard’s tricks and so Elrond found himself intervening before blood could be spilt.

“Master Oakenshield is right Gandalf, knocking and waiting has been the established means of entry for as long as I can remember.” He growled softly as the wizard smirked at him, “Ignoring Gandalf’s bad manners I will look at that map again if you wish.”

Thorin found himself nodding and once again handing his grandfather’s map into the elf’s care. He was suddenly very tired and felt older than his years. The wizard’s lack of response had confirmed his worst fears and while he was grateful for Elrond’s help, he just wished to sleep. He watched in slight detachment as Elrond held the map up to the moon, it was left to Gandalf to demand to know what the now silver scripted parchment said. 

“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks,” Elrond’s calm voice was lulling Thorin’s pain and he found himself paying a little more attention as the elf-lord continued to read, “And the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.”

Thorin found himself meeting the elf’s grey eyes and offered a wry smile as he accepted the map back. “While I suppose we are further on than before, having a date and the possible help of a thrush, stand by a grey stone does not lend itself well to finding the door’s location.”

Elrond’s surprisingly deep laugh filled the room as Gandalf huffed, “I suppose not Master Oakenshield. If you are willing I would see that you have enough supplies for the rest of your journey?”

Thorin smiled widely, “That would be greatly appreciated My Lord Elrond. However we have imposed on your gracious hospitality long enough.”

“Peace Master Oakenshield, I will ask for nothing in return, bar a few more tales to be told to my adopted son. He seems to have enjoyed his time spent around your kin, as did my own boys.”

Thorin bowed low, “Then I accept your offer of further aid My Lord Elrond, it would ease my mind to know my people were not to suffer more on this journey. All of your boys are always welcome among us, they have been a delight.”

Elrond’s laugh once again echoed around the room, “Silver tongue for a dwarf, but I am pleased to hear that, it makes a welcome change from being informed they are menaces.”

Thorin bowed low again to hide the blush that stole up his cheeks at the elf-lord’s words. He didn’t get a chance to reply as Gandalf swept in, “Thank you Elrond, we had best inform the Company of our departure and the new schedule we will have to keep.” 

Thorin growled low as he was herded out of the room as if he were an errant dwarfling. The wizard was still prattling and so Thorin decided his best bet was to escape there and then. 

Thorin found his shoulders tensing as he walked. He hadn’t been lying when he had poured his heart out to the wizard, and that he had been ignored made him feel that he had been right. His line was cursed and here he was dragging his nephews on a quest that may very well spell the end of the line of Durin. So lost in his thoughts was he that he failed to notice that he had come to a stop amongst the trees of the river bank. Finally alone he allowed his heart to break and sank to his knees sobbing. 

*

The morning came too soon for the thirteen dwarrow and single hobbit belonging to The Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Emotions still raw and ragged after several disclosures they found they could face the day with little composure. 

Bilbo found he had not slept at all and so greeted the day with a scowl as he slowly rose from the curled up position he had held all night. Tired and miserable as he felt the urge to check on the dwarrow who now made up his family was greater than his own needs. Staggering as the blood flow returned to his lower legs and feet he slowly made his way back to the quarters they all shared. 

He swallowed down a groan of dismay when he realised the only dwarf present was a softly smiling Oìn. The healer was humming gently as he worked on mending a rent in him over tunic, the small form of Estel curled up asleep beside him. It wasn’t that Bilbo didn’t want to see this particular dwarf, but that none of the others were present meant he had to go search as he wouldn’t be able to rest easily until all were accounted for. 

Grumbling he made enough noise for the healer to acknowledge he was there, but not to wake the human kit sleeping. Oìn responded to his questioning glance with an apologetic shrug and Bilbo dug up a smile for the probably pained dwarf. 

Deciding he was chilled from a night spent alone and under the stars he decided he needed to first be wearing more layers. Marching into his rooms he found a vest, a heavier shirt and for the first time since arriving in Rivendell donned a waistcoat. Sighing in relief as some of the gooseflesh left his skin he allowed himself to think where he may find his missing dwarrow. 

The library seemed to be his best option and he set off with purpose. The sooner he rounded up his family and made sure they were safe and well the sooner he might be able to sleep. 

He hadn’t realised just how much blood he had lost the night of his ritual, nor had he realised just how exhausted he truly was. He only had a moment to be thankful that he had been right in guessing where to find some of his dwarrow when darkness floated at the edges of his vision and the world around him swam. He put a hand out to steady himself, forgetting momentarily of his injuries. 

Kilì was the only dwarf still truly awake in the library, his uncles and brother dozing softly next to him had given him time to think. Hearing a noise at the door to the library he swore loudly as he notice the pale complexion of his hobbit uncle. His youth gave him the speed to stop his new uncle’s descent before Bilbo’s head hit the floor. 

Three more voices raised in alarm as they realised just what had happened and even as Kilì made Bilbo more comfortable, cradling the smaller male’s head on his lap Filì was already running from the room to fetch Oìn. The youngest of the line of Durin barely felt Dwalin kneel next to him, gratefully accepting the fingers curled around his as a means to ground himself. He couldn’t bare it if something happened to their hobbit. He had come to care deeply for his newest uncle and more than that he knew that is there was something seriously wrong it would crush his Uncle Dwalin. He had never seen his uncle so relaxed, so happy as when with the currently unconscious hobbit. 

Balin had forced himself to hold back, he couldn’t run as fast as Filì and he knew crowding Bilbo would do more harm than good, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious. Had it truly only been last night he had announced the hobbit as family. His hands curled into fists as he fought with the feeling of uselessness. 

*

Ori was the first of the Ri brothers to stir and so it was his wincing at the pain in his left arm that awoke his brothers. He could tell Dori was holding back from hysterically fretting and so mustered up a smile. Reassuring his oldest brother took time, but he finally managed to start them moving back towards the common area. The mention that he was hungry was enough to get even Nori involved in the fussing, if not enough for the middle Ri brother to release the grip he had on his family. 

 

*

Bifur awoke with a start, flailing as he nearly topple off the railing he had been sleeping on. It was Bombur’s fatherly instincts that saved him going backwards, and he was never more grateful for the horde of little ones his cousin wad sired. Their sudden movements and Bifur’s own aborted shout awoke Bofur and it was the miner who suggested that they return to the common area because Bilbo would be back and worried. 

*

By the time Filì reached Oìn in the common area, it was full once again of dwarrow. His rapid entrance and horror filled expression brought everyone to a sudden and very silent halt.

“Oìn!” he gasped, tears sounding in his voice. “It’s uncle. He’s…library…won’t wake up.”

The older dwarf was on his feet in an instant, entrusting the care of a somehow still sleeping Estel to his brother and Bombur he swept Filì out of the room, firing rapid questions at the lad, even as he gathered his own composure. 

It was Bofur who broke the silence. “Uncle?”

Seven heads turned to him. 

Ori suddenly gasped. “Bilbo!” he staggered to his feet even as Dori started to shake his head in denial. “It has to be, he was bleeding when he found Nori yesterday, never mentioned how long for. He barely had anything to eat either. Then with all the emotions flying around…” the young scribe trailed off as he choked on a sob. 

Nori staggered over to him and pulled him into a gentle hug, even as Dori sank shaking onto a seat and the rest of the gathered dwarves paled. 

*

Dwalin had never been happier to see Oìn as in that moment. He even found the strength to move back so the healer could more easily reach Bilbo. 

Oìn forced his hands to stop shaking through sheer force of will as he bent to examine the hobbit who had become so close to them all. 

The hobbit who groaned softly as he pressed lightly on the damage on the palm of his left hand. 

“Don’t do that…” the softly accented voice was slurred ever-so –slightly and Oìn chewed the inside of his cheek. “Hurts.”

Green-hazel eyes opened slowly and Oìn huffed in relief as they appeared clear and alert. “Of course it bloody well hurts, you have stitches in it. What in all of Ardar do you mean by scaring me like that hobbit? No don’t talk.”

Oìn pushed to his feet and glowered at the younger male, “Dwalin will carry you back to your room, there you will rest, no stress, no drama and no more injuries. You will let Dori fuss. You will let Bombur feed you and the rest scold. What were you thinking?”

Dwalin sighed in relief at the healer’s scolding, if Oìn was scolding Bilbo was fine, weak, but fine. 

*

It wasn’t until later a tear stained Filì finally dragged himself away from a sleeping Bilbo’s side and curled up into Bofur’s welcoming arms. “Can we not do this again?” the blonde dwarf muttered into the miner’s neck. 

Bofur was about to answer, until the leader of their company staggered up the steps. Balin took one look at Thorin’s face and had the dark haired dwarf wrapped in a massive hug. Bofur watched in horror as the strongest of them all broke down into sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t kill me. Sorry to leave it there.


	58. The Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately this chapter is once again un-beta read so I apologise if there are any mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: High emotions.

Chapter fifty-nine – The Sound of Silence. 

Unknown to most dwarrow do not start their life being suspicious and wary of those born to a different race than they.

While the history of the Khazad race was clouded with mystery and rumour, the current generation being born into the clans were still as intrigued by all that went on around them as the first born were oft to be. Whether they were miners deep in the halls, or princes meeting elves for the first time. 

Khazad eyes rejoiced in the details other races oft missed, from the flares found in even the purest of gems, to the differing colours to be found under the night sky. The love of all that glittered was strong, but when the very stone you live in is alive to you, the minerals sang and laughed it is understandable. 

Young Khazad would play happily with any they could coerce into their games. Running and laughing just as happily under midday sun, cavernous ceilings or star lit skies. Their deeper voices mingling with the higher tones of the children of men, or very rarely with those of the first born. Song, laughter and tales reaching to the heavens and very roots of the earth. 

While not skilled in the growing of green things themselves they stood in awe of those who could coax such beauty from the crumbling ground. The ancient trees under which they sometimes traversed may not have called to them in the same way as living rock, but they still appreciated the beauty and strength of such monuments of nature. 

Every Khazad was deemed to be as important and as lowly as the other. From the miner deep, to the healer wise and warrior strong and deft. Chiefs and cooks were revered the same as goldsmiths, jewellers and blacksmiths. The King or Queen would march on foot with their soldiers, fight and sometimes die with them. If accidents occurred then the royal line would be working alongside the stone sense blessed, whether moving stone or running errands. 

Things changed when the seven lines were gifted seven rings of spectacular beauty. The change was not at first obvious, nor drastic and sudden, but it was there. Slowly the love of gems and precious metals drove the royal line to demand more from their halls of living stone. The taint spread through the clans, from the highest born to the lowest. Class segregation became obvious, the rich, the nobles and royals holding themselves above others. The taint was what truly awoke beasts sleeping in the darkness of time, monsters unheard of. Nightmares awakened, and as the world around them darkened, the seven clans of Khazad struggled to survive the onslaught. 

%

Balin felt his heart take yet another blow as his shield-brother and the only one he could ever truly call king broke in his arms. Thorin’s sobs were filled with anguish and sorrow. The pain of over a century spilling out as he clung desperately and with cruel strength to one of the few who had always been there. 

No sound was heard bar his grief and pain, no-one dare utter a word as he fell apart. 

 

No-one until the youngest of their company stepped forward and drew his uncles into his arms, limbs barely long enough to reach around the pair his dark eyes flashed as he looked into his brother’s blue gaze. The blond heir of Durin, came forward, clearly shaken and wrapped his own arms around their uncles. They were followed by a weary Oìn and a pale Gloìn. Slowly every dwarrow present added their own silent support and joined the family group. 

Thorin’s sobs finally calmed, but it was only as the group peeled away he realised just where he had broken down, that realisation was swiftly followed by just who was missing from the group. 

His voice was still torn as he spoke, “Where are Dwalin and Master Baggins?”

Balin pulled back to peer at his exhausted friend, “First lad, we need to get you some tea and food. Then when we are sure you are okay we will explain.”

Thorin found despite wanting to argue he didn’t have the energy. Nodding slowly he allowed himself to be herded onto a chair and his nephews to curl up alongside him. Their heat kept him earthed, and he realised they wouldn’t be letting go of him any time soon. He’d never realised just how deep their love for him ran, and as that hit him he choked on another sob. 

Balin sighed softly as he rested his palms on the workbench and waited for the kettle to boil. As one of the oldest present he had seen Thorin break before, but the first time he’d had not only his own brother to help him, but Thorin’s own siblings as well. The second Thorin had managed to calm himself to be there for Dìs and the boys. Balin groaned softly and rubbed at his eyes, what had caused Thorin to break would remain unknown, unless the dwarf wanted him to know. A hard look came over his face as the white haired dwarf came to a decision. As soon as Oìn passed Bilbo as healthy, he was recruiting the hobbit to help him make Thorin talk. 

Straightening his shoulders Balin poured out the finally boiling water and loading a tray up with cups, a large tea pot, bread and honey he stepped resolutely from the kitchen. Under his watchful eye Thorin calmly ate and drank what he was presented with, Balin allowed his eyes to roam the group and slowly the dwarrow came forward to claim their own portions. 

Warm, with hunger sated several of the dwarrow present found the emotional few days catching up with them and dozed off in the warm sunlight filling the room. Those unable to sleep took advantage of the quiet and settled back to think, arms around family members. 

Balin finally allowed himself to smile and after checking on a lightly snoring Thorin crossed the common area to check on his brothers. Bilbo had worried him greatly and Dwalin would have taken a hard blow. He relaxed when he saw the two sleeping, Bilbo’s colour looked better, and Dwalin was smiling softly, wrapped possessively around his Hrun. 

Not wanting to disturb them he stepped back, only for Bilbo’s eyes to open and fix on him. He tilted his head as the hobbit brought a finger to his lips the felt his own eyes fill with tears as the smaller male somehow managed to make room on the bed for him to curl up with them. 

“Nadad?” Bilbo’s voice was just a whisper, but Balin caved. 

“Ai! Miz Nadadith,” he soothed on impulse, settling next to Dwalin and reaching to curl his fingers with Bilbo. “Mornit nadadith, mornit.”*

%

Gandalf sat alone in a quiet corner of Rivendell. The bird song eased his heart, and yet the guilt ate at him. He knew he should truly have offered words of comfort when Thorin turned to him, and yet he could find no promises that did not sound hollow. The dwarf knew as well as he the curse upon the line of Durin. That he held not Thròr’s ring eased neither of their minds. 

As he sat pondering the day passed onwards. Gandalf’s brow drew lower as he thought of the abstract fears that haunted even his sleeping thoughts. A darkness without form, an enemy yet unknown. In the end they were all pawns in a greater game, as he himself were. Huffing he glared at a delicate looking plant, he just wished that the Valar had chosen someone lesser than the fourteen beings he had grown to care for in their plans. 

%

Elladan breathed out gently as he released the arrow. Gaining yet another perfect shot he grumbled softly to himself. Practice was so much more enjoyable when he could pit himself against his brother. Yet since the dwarrow had arrived at their home, they had spent little time of the range. He knew Elrohir felt as himself. The leader of the group was interesting, he called to them, in what manner they knew not, and yet…Elladan huffed a sigh. Yes the dwarf named Thorin called to them, and the rest of the dwarves calmed the hunter in them. They had spent so little time around races other than Men or Elves that they did not truly know what to make of the feeling. That is why he was alone Elrohir was spending time in the library, while Elladan practiced, later they would switch places. Elladan felt his grin grow, maybe after night fell they could return to spend some time with the dwarf with the epitaph of Oakenshield. 

%

The garden around her was lush, and she trailed her fingers through the swaths of flowers as she walked. She could name each of these plants, each was her child after all, and they grew because she had sung. Yavanna raised gold-tinted, violet eyes to where her husband’s realm abutted hers. Like the plants surrounding her, and the stone and metal surrounding he, both hobbits and dwarrow were their children. That one of hers had claimed thirteen of his as under their protection had come as a shock. After all Aulë’s children were the ones who had been made sturdy, as unyielding as the rock they had been crafted from. Whereas her youngest children had been made from the softest of loam, and the most healing of her plants. 

She smiled as the air shimmered around her and her husband materialised. They would watch their children more closely from now on, after all it had taken one of their children to show them where they had failed. Aulë wrapped his forged muscled arms around her shoulders and she leant into the warmth he provided, allowing a single tear to slip free. 

“Tá a fhios agam mo ghrá!” he rumbled softly. “Tá a fhios againn anois nuair theip orainn ár bpáistí.”

Yavanna whimpered despite her resolve.

Aulë tightened his arms “Tsíocháin, grá,” he soothed, “Tá a fhios againn anois cad ní mór dúinn a dhéanamh. Ní bheidh muid theipeann ár bpáistí arís! Tá an t-athair a deonaíodh dúinn! Is ERU Ilúvatar trócaireach an lá seo, mar i gcónaí.”

Yavanna finally broke after a millennia of stoicism. Only this time her husband stood true. He was a rock battered by her anger, yet he didn’t fail her. His words rang with truth, and this time she knew that they would stand together for their children. Their children! Not the children of her creation protected by her, and those of his creation protected by him. Together they would protect them, together they would break the chains that had held their children for too long. 

Aulë allowed himself to relax as his love let out a watery chuckle, and allowed his own lips to twitch into a smile as he understood the line her thoughts had just followed. He doubted the fourteen at Rivendell would welcome interference, those they had left behind however, they would be very well protected. 

%

Night fell on Rivendell and finally the last of the dwarrow with in its walls drifted into the arms of Irmo. Their sleep was peaceful, and dreams sweet. 

Elrond’s sons arrived to find all asleep, yet instead of leaving found themselves a spot by the fire to curl up and enter their own waking dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations.  
> (Khuzdul-english)  
> Hrun- One.  
> Nadad – brother.  
> Ai, miz nadadith –yes! My little brother.   
> Mornit nadadith, mornit. –Rest little brother, sleep now.  
> *Balin is responding to Bilbo’s own words, he hasn’t realised he is speaking Khuzdul. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Gaelic-English)  
> Tá a fhios agam mo ghrá! – I know my love!
> 
> Tá a fhios againn anois nuair theip orainn ár bpáistí. – We know now where we failed our children.  
> tsíocháin, grá – peace, love.  
> tá a fhios againn anois cad ní mór dúinn a dhéanamh. Ní bheidh muid theipeann ár bpáistí arís – We now know what we must do. We will not fail our children again.   
> Tá an t-athair a deonaíodh dúinn – the father has granted us this.   
> Is ERU Ilúvatar trócaireach an lá seo, mar i gcónaí. - Eru Ilúvatar is merciful this day, as always.
> 
>  
> 
> Names used.   
> Irmo-Master of Visions and Dreams. Originally named Irmo, but referred to more commonly as Lórien, after his dwelling place. Lórien and Mandos are the Fëanturi, masters of spirits. Lórien, the younger, is the master of visions and dreams. His gardens in the land of the Valar, where he dwells with his spouse Estë, are the fairest place in the world and are filled with many spirits. All those who dwell in Valinor find rest and refreshment at the fountain of Irmo and Estë. Since he is the master of dreams, he and his servants are well-aware of the hopes and dreams of the children of Eru. Olórin, or Gandalf, prior to his assignment by Manwë to a role as one of the Istari, was a Maia long taught in the gardens of Lórien.
> 
> Aulë - Husband of Yavanna, Aulë is given lordship over the matter that composes Arda and is a master of all the crafts that shape it. He created the seven fathers of the Dwarves, who call him Mahal, the Maker. During the Music of the Ainur, Aulë's themes concerned the physical things of which Arda is made; when Eru Ilúvatar gave being to the themes of the Ainur, his music became the lands of Middle-earth. Other of his works include Angainor (the chain of Melkor), the Two Lamps and the vessels of the Sun and Moon.
> 
> Yavanna - Yavanna is Queen of the Earth and Giver of Fruits, spouse of Aulë, also called Kementári. She created the Two Trees, and is responsible for the kelvar (animals) and olvar (plants). It was she who requested the creation of the Ents, as she feared for the safety of the trees once her husband had created the Dwarves. The Two Lamps are created by Aulë at Yavanna's request, and their light germinates the seeds that she had planted. Following the destruction of the Two Lamps by Melkor and the withdrawal of the Valar to Aman, Yavanna sang into being the Two Trees of Valinor.


	59. Between the Raindrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Emotions.  
> Warnings: Mentions of past violence.   
> Warnings: Bilbo’s religion.  
> Warnings: Mentions of past blood and gore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for such a long wait. I have failed miserably at getting my thoughts down into writing and real life keeps demanding attention. 
> 
> This story is still un-beta-read until after the festive season. Hopefully I will have my angel back after that. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I do not own any of Middle Earth its ownership and creation lie solely in the hands of J.R.R.Tolkien. I am merely playing with them. 
> 
> Recap: Bilbo Baggins of the Shire meets a group of dwarves that have been directed to his home by Gandalf. His first introduction is to Dwalin, upon hearing the dwarrow’s story Bilbo swears he will help them to the end of the line, taking the three youngest immediately under his wing. The Company grow closer on their journey to Rivendell, with only Thorin Oakenshield still having issues with their burglar. Bilbo has gained a weapon after a run in with trolls and upon hearing Nori and Kili’s stories demands to start training with Dwalin as soon as possible. At the same time he has managed to reveal to Elrond, Gandalf and Thorin he is anything but a simple hobbit he starts courting Dwalin. Fili and Bofur, have finally admitted they are One, while Kili and Ori make an adorable, if mischievous pair. Dori has let some of his shadier-self show through and the Company have adopted all three of Elrond’s sons, both the elven twins and the human child. Finally Bilbo has realised he will need help keeping anyone safe and using his right as one of the religious leaders of the Shire calls upon both Mahal and Yavanna to hear his plea. The Company as a whole has become closer after Bilbo owned certain truths to them, Bilbo has passed out and Thorin has broken down. We left all our dwarrow and single hobbit sleeping, along with Estel and the elven twins.

Chapter 60 – Between the Raindrops. 

_The dwarven clans had settled in the areas where they truly felt at home, but with the growing taint their homes began to suffer. The Blacklocks and Stonefoots were the first to feel the darkness, with no time to see the warnings they were almost extinguished, the darkness powerful enough to corrupt even their dwarven minds and bodies. Some escaped, living rough, desperate not to leave their homes they became hermits, the clans almost extinct. Next to suffer were the Ironfists and the Stiffbeards. The cold of their homelands made them a hardier type than most, but their stubbornness would be their fall. They refused to flee in the face of the enemies might and darkness took those who could not see reason, even as the wise fought to control it. The strongholds of Mt. Dolmed were next to succumber, and the revered meeting place of Gundabad drew the enemy’s eyes. The clans of Longbeards, Firebeard and Broadbeams originally survived the onslaught better than their eastern kin, but fate was not kind the those who did not find safety in Midgardsmal or Khazad-dûm became known as the Petty-dwarves and were hunted like animals to the point of extinction by the elves. ___

__%_ _

__Thorin was the first to awaken. His limbs felt heavy and his head ached, and yet he felt more at peace than he could place. Slowly he peered around the dawn lit room. He was surrounded by most of his company, his nephews were curled around him, the human child, Estel, curled between Bombur and Gloin, all three tucked under a blanket. Thorin cricked his neck and found himself smiling at the sight of the elven twins curled up by the dying embers of the fire. Huffing softly to himself the dwarven prince managed to disentangle himself from his nephews and draped a spare blanket over then. A check on the Ri family showed they were comfortable, the same with the Ur family and a lightly snoring Oìn. Tutting at the thin tunics the elves seemed to be sleeping in, he managed to source two more blankets._ _

__Another glance round had Thorin jumping softly, Bilbo stood at the door to his room, eyes blinking sleepily up at Thorin and curls mused. He was, Thorin noticed unnaturally pale and seemed unsteady on his feet. The bandages were still wrapped snuggly around both his hands and in that second the king finally and truly destroyed any vestige of doubt over the smaller male from his mind. Stepping briskly over to the hobbit he caught a glimpse of Dwalin and Balin sleeping peacefully. Deciding Bilbo must have sunk out he extended an arm to escort the other to the kitchens._ _

__It was slow going, neither of them being particularly steady, and yet they found a strange sort of comfort in the taking and giving of support. Kitchen reached, Thorin installed Bilbo at a kitchen stool and somehow managed to get a kettle full of water on the stove and the correct leaves into a tea pot. Blinking at the cold stove, the dwarven prince groaned and scratched his head as he tried to figure out how to light it. A soft huff drew his attention back to the hobbit and a smile graced his lips as he took in the offered tinder box, apparently there was something to be said for the softer side of life._ _

__By the time the tea was brewed, and some bread and honey sourced the two were sitting in a relaxed silence. If Thorin noticed Bilbo was having trouble with the cups he didn’t mention it, the same as if Bilbo noticed the dwarf’s eyes were red rimed and his braids mused, he was silent on the matter._ _

__They had managed to drink the full pot of tea between the two of them, before Bilbo broke the silence._ _

__“So ...” he started hesitantly, “How does one go about apologising for making oneself ill because they have put others first?”_ _

__

__Thorin blinked, “huh?” he managed, thinking over the hobbit’s words. “You might need to explain that one.”_ _

__Bilbo sighed, “I managed to worry and scare most of the group because I fainted due to blood loss, low blood sugar and exhaustion, because I may have tried taking care of them all and forgot about myself.”_ _

__Thorin swallowed, “Blood loss?” he gasped, “Fainted?”_ _

__Bilbo looked sheepish and held up his hands. “You know how I told you I was Càirneach for my peoples? Well I may have got a smidge protective and annoyed and used one of our banned rituals.”_ _

__“You did what?” Thorin gasped, things suddenly making much more sense. “Wait you actually managed to summon Mahal? I need to sit down!”_ _

__Bilbo let out a watery chuckle, “Thorin, you are sitting down. And yes, apparently I was incensed enough and loud enough in doing so to get mum and dad to check up on me.”_ _

__“Sweet … merciful…Oh my!”_ _

__“Yes, well you can imagine my reaction when it actually worked can’t you!”_ _

__Thorin took a deep breath, “You called, and they…came?”_ _

__Bilbo sighed again, “No I screamed and bled, and threw the biggest temper tantrum you can imagine, along with all the ritual stuff I used.” He looked Thorin in the eye, “I doubt I would be able to do it again.”_ _

__“I don’t want you doing it again!” Thorin snapped, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “You have become so much to these dwarves, that it would kill them to lose you in such a manner. I can’t help but be thankful you did, but Master Baggins! Bilbo! We cannot lose you! You are one of us! And we take care of our own. If you bleed we bleed. If you are hurt, we are hurt. We will laugh with you, cry with you. Rejoice with you, mourn with you. We will fight along side you, and lay down arms to save you. You are Khazad-meri. You are utz!”_ _

__“Thorin…” Bilbo’s voice broke and he flung his arms around the dwarf’s broad shoulders. When Dori entered the kitchen half a bell later he found them sitting on the floor Thorin sobbing apologies into Bilbo’s curls as a tearful, but baffled hobbit tried to sooth him._ _

__%_ _

__Several bells later, when emotions had finally run their course, (several times as each dwarf broke down when it was explained to them, young Estel happy his new friends seemed to be healing and the elven twins because it meant there was still hope in the darkness) Bilbo was lying in his room listening to the quiet conversations flowing from the common area. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to even think of holding a blade for several more days, yet he was more confident in his ability to hold to the promises he had made his dwarves._ _

__His eyes lighted upon a flash of green leather caught his eye and he started up right. He still hadn’t given Dwalin his courting gift. Slipping to the door he peered out into the firelit common area. Dwalin was almost centre stage, with Balin and Thorin seated either side of him. Filì and Kilì were leaning over the shoulders of the prince and advisor. The Ris and Urs were seated on cushions on the floor, creating almost a walk way. The elven twins, with Estel between them were standing behind the Urs, while Oìn and Gloìn were behind the Ri’s. Bilbo smirked and stepped back into his room._ _

__A quick glance in the mirror had him frowning, and he set about putting himself to right. Pulling on the best set of clothing he had with him, he left the collar of his shirt open and settled the tiger’s eye bead in the hollow of his throat, before running a comb carefully through his hair. He peered critically at himself, his Baggins relatives would have a fit, but he was proposing to a dwarf. A smile slid onto his face as he imagined a life with Dwalin, a life with his dwarf family and he stepped confidently from his room, courting gift tucked under his arm and barely a wobble in his step._ _

__His entrance was noticed only when he reached the nearest Ur, he shifted the parcel that was balanced carefully on his bandaged hands and stepped forwards eyes locked on Dwalin. The dwarves seemed to realise immediately that was something was happening and the young princes both clapped a hand to Dwalin’s shoulder, halting the warrior’s conversation. Bilbo smiled widely as grey eyes locked on him, and a gentle flush showed behind a beard. He reached his beloved and dropped to one knee, offering up the courting gift in silence._ _

__Elladan and Elrohir’s eyes widened as they looked upon the scene. Estel dancing happily on his toes. Dwalin swallowed as he carefully took the leather wrapped gift from Bilbo’s hands. His heart was beating an unknown rhythm and he felt jittery. Bilbo had made him something, probably while they were here, and all Dwalin had gifted him was an already formed bead. It was Thorin’s nudge that brought him back and he gently unwrapped the courting gift, letting the soft material flow from where he held it._ _

__Dwalin swallowed again as he took in the beautiful piece of clothing he held. He couldn’t remember ever owning something that so much work had gone into, something that was solely his colours, and a marvellous combination of dwarven and hobbitish styles. He stuttered with the buttons, smiling widely down at Bilbo. Balin took pity on his brother and helped him on with the waistcoat, buttoning it up gently, even as he admired the craftmanship._ _

__Estel’s joyous whoop broke the spell and the dwarves all clambered to get a closer look at Dwalin’s gifted waistcoat, even as Thorin helped Bilbo to his feet and pushed him into Dwalin’s arms. All propriety was thrown aside as Dwalin drew his hobbit closer and kissed him deeply._ _

__Thorin finally managed to stand back and observe those who were dear to him, of those living he was missing only his sister to make this truly home. He closed his eyes as relieved tears threatened to spill. A gnarled hand settled on his shoulder and he heard the wizard’s voice._ _

__“I see before me a dwarf who needs no crown or jewel to be king, and if the ancient laws allowed it I would crown you so Mountain or no my old friend.”_ _

__Thorin spun, one tear escaping despite his efforts._ _

__Gandalf smiled softly, “I did not answer your worries before as I did not know how to put my thoughts into words. Believe me though Thorin, no darkness can hold sway over you as long as you hold true to your heart.” The wizard gestured and Thorin turned to see the collection of dwarves, elves, hobbits and humans smiling widely at him. As he met Gandalf’s eye he was once again swept up in a group hug. Even as he leaned back against an elven stomach, another’s slender arm wrapped around his shoulder and a human child hanging from his neck, Thorin thought the wizard could well be right._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations.   
> Khuzdul – English  
> Midgardsmal – Iron Hills.  
> Khazad-dûm – Dwarrowdelf.   
> Khazad-Meri – Dwarf-friend.  
> Utz – Ours.  
> Hobbitish – English  
> Càirneach – Druid/priest.


End file.
